The Gangsta Hobbit
by AuraWarrior
Summary: Thanks to the magic of Gizoogle, read The Hobbit like you have never read it before!
1. Chapta 1 An Unexpected Party, Yo

(AN: Thanks to the magic that is Gizoogle, and JRR Tolkien, enjoy The Hobbit as you've never seen it before!)

In a hole up in tha ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled wit tha endz of worms n' a oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole wit not a god damn thang up in it ta sit down on and ta eat: it was a hobbit-hole, n' dat means comfort.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted chronic, wit a shiny yellow brass knob up in tha exact middle. Da door opened on ta a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a straight-up laid back tunnel without smoke, wit panelled walls, n' floors tiled n' carpeted, provided wit polished chairs, n' fuckin shitloadz n' fuckin shitloadz of pegs fo' hatz n' coatz - tha hobbit was fond of visitors. Da tunnel wound on n' on, goin fairly but not like straight tha fuck into tha side of tha hill - Da Hill, as all tha gangstas fo' nuff milez round called it - n' nuff lil round doors opened up of it, first on one side n' then on another. No goin upstairs fo' tha hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lotz of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted ta clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all was on tha same stupid-ass floor, n' indeed on tha same stupid-ass passage. Da dopest rooms was all on tha left-hand side (goin in), fo' these was tha only ones ta have windows, deep-set round windows lookin over his stupid-ass garden n' meadows beyond, slopin down ta tha river.

This hobbit was a straight-up well-to-do hobbit, n' his name was Baggins. Da Bagginses had lived up in tha neighbourhood of Da Hill fo' time up of mind, n' gangstas considered em straight-up respectable, not only cuz most of em was rich yo, but also cuz they never had any adventures and did anythang unexpected: yo ass could tell what tha fuck a Baggins would say on any question without tha bother of askin his muthafuckin ass. This be a rap of how tha fuck a Baggins had a adventure, found his dirty ass bustin n' sayin thangs altogether unexpected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude may have lost tha neighbours' respec' yo, but he gained-well, yo ass will peep whether he gained anythang up in tha end.

Da mutha of our particular hobbit... what tha fuck be a hobbit, biatch? I suppose hobbitz need some description nowadays, since they have become rare n' shy of tha Big Muthafuckas, as they call us. They is (or were) a lil gangstas, bout half our height, n' smalla than tha bearded Dwarves yo. Hobbitz have no beards. There is lil and no magic bout them, except tha ordinary everydizzle sort which helps em ta disappear on tha fuckin' down-lowly n' quickly when big-ass stupid folk like yo ass n' mah crazy ass come blunderin along, bustin a noise like elephantz which they can hear a mile off. They is inclined ta be at up in tha stomach; they dress up in bright colours (chizzlely chronic n' yellow); wear no shoes, cuz they feet grow natural leathery solez n' thick warm brown afro like tha shiznit on they headz (which is curly); have long smart-ass brown fingers, phat-natured faces, n' laugh deep fruitizzle laughs (especially afta dinner, which they have twice a dizzle when they can git it). Now yo ass know enough ta go on wit fo' realz.

As I was saying, tha mutha of dis hobbit - of Bilbo Baggins, dat is - was tha fabulous Belladonna Took, one of tha three remarkable daughtaz of tha Oldskool Took, head of tha hobbitz whoz ass lived across Da Water, tha lil' small-ass river dat ran all up in tha foot of Da Hill. It was often holla'd (in other crews) dat long ago one of tha Took izzlestors must have taken a fairy ho. That was, of course, absurd yo, but certainly there was still some shiznit not entirely hobbit-like bout them, - n' once up in a while thugz of tha Took-clan would go n' have adventures. They discreetly disrocked up, n' tha gang hushed it up; but tha fact remained dat tha Tooks was not as respectable as tha Bagginses, though they was undoubtedly richer. Not dat Belladonna Took ever had any adventures afta her ass became Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, dat was Bilboz father, built da most thugged-out luxurious hobbit-hole fo' her (and kinda wit her scrilla) dat was ta be found either under Da Hill and over Da Hill and across Da Water, n' there they remained ta tha end of they days. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still it aint nuthin but probable dat Bilbo, her only son, although he looked n' behaved exactly like a second edizzle of his solid n' laid back father, gotz some shiznit a bit queer up in his crazy-ass makeup from tha Took side, some shiznit dat only waited fo' a chizzle ta come out. Da chizzle never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, bein bout fifty muthafuckin years oldschool and so, n' livin up in tha dope hobbit-hole built by his wild lil' father, which I have just busted lyrics bout fo' you, until he had up in fact apparently settled down immovably.

By some curious chizzle one mornin long ago up in tha on tha down-low of tha ghetto, when there was less noise n' mo' chronic, n' tha hobbitz was still a shitload of n' prosperous, n' Bilbo Baggins was standin at his fuckin lil' door afta breakfast tokin a enormous long wooden pipe dat reached nearly down ta his woolly toes (neatly brushed) - Gandalf came by. Gandalf, muthafucka! If yo ass had heard only a quarta of what tha fuck I have heard bout him, n' I have only heard straight-up lil of all there is ta hear, yo ass would be prepared fo' any sort I of remarkable tale. Talez n' adventures sprouted up all over tha place wherever he went, up in da most thugged-out extraordinary fashion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude had not been down dat way under Da Hill fo' ages n' ages, not since his wild lil' playa tha Oldskool Took died, up in fact, n' tha hobbitz had almost forgotten what tha fuck he looked like yo. Dude had been away over Da Hill n' across Da Gin N Juice on bidnizz of his own since they was all lil' small-ass hobbit-boys n' hobbit-hoes.

All dat tha unsuspectin Bilbo saw dat mornin was a oldschool playa wit a staff yo. Dude had a tall pointed blue hat, a long-ass grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, n' immense black boots. "Dope morning!" holla'd Bilbo, n' he meant dat shit. Da sun was shining, n' tha grass was straight-up chronic. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But Gandalf looked at his ass from under long bushy eyebrows dat stuck up further than tha brim of his shady hat. "What do yo ass mean?" be holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Do yo ass wish mah crazy ass a phat morning, and mean dat it aint nuthin but a phat mornin whether I want not; and dat yo ass feel phat dis morning; and dat it aint nuthin but mornin ta be phat on?"

"All of em at once," holla'd Bilbo. "And a straight-up fine mornin fo' a pipe of bluntz up of doors, tha fuck into tha bargain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If yo ass gotz a pipe bout you, sit down n' gotz a fill of mine, muthafucka! Therez no hurry, our crazy-ass asses have all tha dizzle before us!" Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his fuckin lil' door, crossed his fuckin legs, n' blew up a dope grey rang of smoke dat sailed up tha fuck into tha air without breakin n' floated away over Da Hill.

"Straight-up pretty!" holla'd Gandalf. "But I have no time ta blow smoke-rings dis morning. I be lookin fo' some muthafucka ta share up in a adventure dat I be arranging, n' itz straight-up hard as fuck ta find every last muthafuckin muthafucka."

I should think so - up in these parts, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses is plain on tha down-low folk n' have no bust fo' adventures. Nasty disturbin uncomfortable thangs, muthafucka! Make yo ass late fo' dinner, muthafucka! I can't think what tha fuck anybody sees up in them, holla'd our Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, n' stuck one thumb behind his braces, n' blew up another even bigger smoke-ring. Then he took up his crazy-ass mornin letters, n' begin ta read, pretendin ta take no mo' notice of tha oldschool man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude had decided dat he was not like his sort, n' wanted his ass ta go away. But tha oldschool playa did not move yo. Dude stood leanin on his stick n' gazin all up in tha hobbit without sayin anythang, till Bilbo gotz like uncomfortable n' even a lil cross.

"Dope morning!" he holla'd at last. "Our thugged-out asses don't want any adventures here, fuck you, muthafucka! Yo Ass might try over Da Hill and across Da Water." By dis he meant dat tha conversation was at a end.

"What a shitload of thangs yo ass do bust Dope mornin for!" holla'd Gandalf. "Now yo ass mean dat yo ass wanna git rid of me, n' dat it won't be phat till I move off."

"Not at all, not at all, mah dear sir, muthafucka! Let mah crazy ass see, I don't think I know yo' name?"

"Yes, yes, mah dear sir - n' I do know yo' name, Mista Muthafuckin Bilbo Baggins fo' realz. And yo ass do know mah name, though yo ass don't remember dat I belong ta dat shit. I be Gandalf, n' Gandalf means me, muthafucka! To think dat I should have lived ta be phat-morninged by Belladonna Tookz son, as if I was pushin buttons all up in tha door!"

"Gandalf, Gandalf, muthafucka! Dope gracious me, muthafucka! Not tha wanderin wizard dat gave Oldskool Took a pair of magic diamond studz dat fastened themselves n' never came undone till ordered, biatch? Not tha fellow whoz ass used ta tell such wonderful talez at parties, bout dragons n' goblins n' giantz n' tha rescue of bizzatches n' tha unexpected luck of widows' sons, biatch? Not tha playa dat used ta make such particularly pimpin fireworks, muthafucka! I remember them, muthafucka! Oldskool Took used ta have em on Midsummerz Eve. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Splendid, muthafucka! They used ta go up like pimped out lilies n' snapdragons n' laburnumz of fire n' hang up in tha twilight all evening!"

Yo Ass will notice already dat Mista Muthafuckin Baggins was not like so prosy as he dug ta believe, also dat he was straight-up fond of flowers. "Dear me!" her ass went on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Not tha Gandalf whoz ass was responsible fo' all kindsa muthafuckin on tha down-low ladz n' lasses goin off tha fuck into tha Blue fo' mad adventures fo' realz. Anythang from climbin trees ta visitin Elves - and sailin up in shizzles, sailin ta other shores, muthafucka! Bless me, thuglife used ta be like inta - I mean, yo ass used ta upset thangs badly up in these partz back up in tha day. I beg yo' pardon yo, but I had no idea yo ass was still up in bidnizz." "Where else should I be?" holla'd tha wizard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "All tha same stupid-ass I be pleased ta find yo ass remember some shiznit bout me. Yo Ass seem ta remember mah fireworks kindly, at any rate, land dat aint without hope. Indeed fo' yo' oldschool grand-father Tookz sake, n' fo' tha sake of poor Belladonna, I will give yo ass what tha fuck yo ass axed for."

"I beg yo' pardon, I haven't axed fo' anythang!"

"Yes, yo ass have, muthafucka! Twice now, nahmeean, biatch? My fuckin pardon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I give it yo ass fo'sho. In fact I will go so far as ta bust yo ass on dis adventure. Straight-up amusin fo' me, straight-up phat fo' yo ass n' profitable too, straight-up likely, if yo ass ever git over dat shit."

"Sorry, muthafucka! I don't want any adventures, fuck yo ass fo'sho. Not todizzle. Dope morning!

But please come ta tea - any time yo ass like, muthafucka! Why not tomorrow, biatch? Come tomorrow! Dope-bye!"

With dat tha hobbit turned n' scuttled inside his bangin round chronic door, n' shut it as quickly as he dared, not ta peeped rude. Wizardz afta all is wizards.

"What on earth did I ask his ass ta tea for!" he holla'd ta him-self, as he went to tha pantry yo. Dude had only just had break fast yo, but he thought a cake and two n' a drink of some shiznit would do his ass phat afta his wild lil' fright. Gandalf up in tha meantime was still standin outside tha door, n' bustin up long but on tha fuckin' down-lowly fo' realz. Afta a while he stepped up, n' wit tha spike of his staff scratched a queer sign on tha hobbitz dope chronic front-door. Then he strode away, just bout tha time when Bilbo was finishin his second cake n' beginnin ta think dat he had escape adventures straight-up well.

Da next dizzle he had almost forgotten bout Gandalf yo. Dude did not remember thangs straight-up well, unless he put em down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf 'a Wednesday. Yesterdizzle he had been too flustered ta do anythang of tha kind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Just before tea-time there came a tremendous rang on tha front-door bell, n' then he remembered, muthafucka! Dude rushed n' put on tha kettle, n' put up another cup n' saucer n' a extra cake and two, n' ran ta tha door. "I be so sorry ta keep yo ass waiting!" he was goin ta say, when he saw dat it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf wit a blue beard tucked tha fuck into a golden belt, n' straight-up bright eyes under his fuckin lil' dark-chronic hood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As soon a tha door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude hung his hooded cloak on tha nearest peg, n' "Dwalin at yo' service!" he holla'd wit a low bow.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours!" holla'd tha hobbit, too surprised ta ask any thangs fo' tha moment. When tha silence dat followed had become uncomfortable, he added: "I be just bout ta take tea; pray come n' have some wit me." A lil stiff like yo, but he meant it kindly fo' realz. And what tha fuck would yo ass do, if a uninvited dwarf came n' hung his cold-ass thangs up up in yo' hall without a word of explanation?

They had not been at table long, up in fact they had hardly reached tha third cake, when there came another even louder rang all up in tha bell. "Excuse me!" holla'd tha hobbit, n' off he went ta tha door. "So yo ass have gotz here at last!" was what tha fuck he was goin ta say ta Gandalf dis time. But it was not Gandalf. Instead there was a straight-up old-lookin dwarf on tha step wit a white beard n' a scarlet hood; n' he too hopped inside as soon as tha door was open, just as if he had been invited. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I peep they have begun ta arrive already," he holla'd when he caught sight of Dwalinz chronic hood hangin up yo. Dude hung his bangin red one next ta it, n' "Balin at yo' service!" he holla'd wit his hand on his breast.

"Nuff props!" holla'd Bilbo wit a gasp. It was not tha correc' muthafuckin thang ta say yo, but they have begun ta arrive had flustered his ass badly yo. Dude dug visitors yo, but he dug ta know em before they arrived, n' he preferred ta ask em his dirty ass yo. Dude had a wack thought dat tha cakes might run short, n' then he-as tha host: he knew his fuckin lil' duty n' stuck ta it however painful-he might have ta go without.

"Come along in, n' have some tea!" he managed ta say afta takin a deep breath.

"A lil brew would suit mah crazy ass better, if it aint nuthin but all tha same stupid-ass ta you, mah phat sir," holla'd Balin wit tha white beard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But I don't mind some cake-seed-cake, if yo ass have any."

"Lots!" Bilbo found his dirty ass answering, ta his own surprise; n' he found his dirty ass scuttlin off, too, ta tha cellar ta fill a pint brew-mug, n' ta tha pantry ta fetch two dope round seed-cakes which he had baked dat afternoon fo' his thugged-out after-suppa morsel.

When he gotz back Balin n' Dwalin was rappin' all up in tha table like oldschool playaz (as a matta of fact they was bruthas). Bilbo plumped down tha brew n' tha cake up in front of them, when loud came a rang all up in tha bell again, n' then another ring.

"Gandalf fo' certain dis time," he thought as he puffed along tha passage. But it was not. It was two mo' dwarves, both wit blue hoods, silver belts, n' yellow beards; n' each of em carried a bag of tools n' a spade. In they hopped, as soon as tha door fuckin started ta open-Bilbo was hardly surprised at all.

"What can I do fo' you, mah dwarves?" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Kili at yo' service!" holla'd tha one. "And Fili!" added tha other; n' they both swept off they blue hoodz n' bowed.

"At yours n' yo' family's!" replied Bilbo, rememberin his crazy-ass manners dis time.

"Dwalin n' Balin here already, I see," holla'd Kili. "Let our asses join tha throng!"

"Throng!" thought Mista Muthafuckin Baggins. "I don't like tha sound of dat shit. I straight-up must sit down fo' a minute n' collec' mah wits, n' gotz a drink." Dude had only just had a sip-in tha corner, while tha four dwarves sat around tha table, n' talked bout mines n' gold n' shitz wit tha goblins, n' tha depredationz of dragons, n' fuckin shitloadz of other thangs which he did not understand, n' did not want to, fo' they sounded much too adventurous-when, ding-dong-a-ling-' dang, his bell rang again, as if some naughty lil hobbit-boy was tryin ta pull tha handle off. "Someone all up in tha door!" he holla'd, blinking. "Some four, I should say by tha sound," holla'd Fili. "Be-sides, our crazy-ass asses saw em comin along behind our asses up in tha distizzle."

Da poor lil hobbit sat down up in tha hall n' put his head up in his hands, n' wondered what tha fuck had happened, n' what tha fuck was goin ta happen, n' whether they would all stay ta supper. Then tha bell rang again louder than ever, n' he had ta run ta tha door. It was not four afta all, it was FIVE fo' realz. Another dwarf had come along while he was wonderin up in tha hall yo. Dude had hardly turned tha knob, be-x)re they was all inside, bowin n' sayin "at yo' service" one afta another. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, n' Gloin was they names; n' straight-up soon two purple hoods, a grey hood, a brown hood, n' a white hood was hangin on tha pegs, n' off they marched wit they broad handz stuck up in they gold n' silver beltz ta join tha others fo' realz. Already it had almost become a throng. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some called fo' ale, n' some fo' porter, n' one fo' coffee, n' all of em fo' cakes; so tha hobbit was kept straight-up busy fo' a while fo' realz. A big-ass jug of coffee bad just been set up in tha hearth, tha seed-cakes was gone, n' tha dwarves was startin on a round of buttered scones, when there came-a loud knock. Not a rang yo, but a hard rat-tat on tha hobbitz dope chronic door. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some Muthafucka was bangin wit a stick!

Bilbo rushed along tha passage, straight-up supa pissed, n' altogether bewildered n' bewuthered-this was da most thugged-out awkward Wednesdizzle he ever remembered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude pulled open tha door wit a jerk, n' they all fell in, one on top of tha other. Mo' dwarves, four more, muthafucka! And there was Gandalf behind, leanin on his staff n' bustin up yo. Dude had done cooked up like a dent on tha dope door; he had also, by tha way, knocked up tha secret mark dat he had put there tha mornin before. "Carefully, muthafucka! Carefully!" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It aint like you, Bilbo, ta keep playaz waitin on tha mat, n' then open tha door like a pop-gun, muthafucka! Let mah crazy ass introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, n' especially Thorin!" "At yo' service!" holla'd Bifur, Bofur, n' Bombur standin up in a row. Then they hung up two yellow hoodz n' a pale chronic one; n' also a sky-blue one wit a long-ass silver tassel. This last belonged ta Thorin, a enormously blingin dwarf, up in fact no other than tha pimped out Thorin Oakenshield his dirty ass, whoz ass was not at all pleased at fallin flat on Bilboz mat wit Bifur, Bofur, n' Bombur on top of his muthafuckin ass. For one muthafuckin thang Bombur was immensely fat n' heavy. Thorin indeed was straight-up haughty, n' holla'd not a god damn thang bout service; but poor Mista Muthafuckin Baggins holla'd he was sorry all kindsa muthafuckin times, dat at last he grunted "pray don't mention it," n' stopped frowning.

"Now our crazy-ass asses is all here!" holla'd Gandalf, lookin all up in tha row of thirteen hoods-the dopest detachable jam hoods-and his own hat hangin on tha pegs. "Quite a merry gathering!

I hope there is some shiznit left fo' tha late-comers ta smoke n' drink, muthafucka! Whatz that, biatch? Tea, muthafucka! No fuck you, muthafucka! A lil red wine, I think, fo' me." "And fo' me," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "And raspberry jam n' apple-tart," holla'd Bifur. "And mince-pies n' cheese," holla'd Bofur. "And pork-pie n' salad," holla'd Bombur. "And mo' cakes-and ale-and coffee, if yo ass don't mind," called tha other dwarves all up in tha door.

"Put on a few eggs, therez a phat fellow!" Gandalf called afta him, as the hobbit stumped off ta tha pantries. "And just brang up tha cold chicken n' pickles!"

"Seems ta know as much bout tha inside of mah lardaz as I do mah dirty ass!" thought Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, whoz ass was feelin positively flummoxed, n' was beginnin ta wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come muthafuckin right tha fuck into his house. By tha time he had gotz all tha fortyz n' dishes n' knives n' forks n' glasses n' plates n' spoons n' thangs piled up on big-ass trays, he was gettin straight-up hot, n' red up in tha face, n' annoyed.

"Confusticate n' bebother these dwarves!" he holla'd aloud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Why don't they come n' lend a hand?" Lo n' behold, muthafucka! there stood Balin n' Dwalin all up in tha door of tha kitchen, n' Fili n' Kili behind them, n' before he could say knife they had whisked tha trays n' a couple lil' small-ass tablez tha fuck into tha parlour n' set up everythang afresh.

Gandalf sat all up in tha head of tha jam wit tha thirteen, dwarves all round: n' Bilbo sat on a stool all up in tha fireside, nibblin at a biscuit (his appetite was like taken away), n' tryin ta look as if dis was all perfectly ordinary and. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! not up in tha least a adventure. Da dwarves ate n' ate, n' talked n' talked, n' time gotz on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. At last they pushed they chairs back, n' Bilbo done cooked up a move ta collec' tha plates n' glasses. "I suppose yo ass will all stay ta supper?" he holla'd up in his thugged-out lil' politest unpressin tones. "Of course!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "And after. Our thugged-out asses shan't git all up in tha bidnizz till late, n' our crazy-ass asses must have some noize first. Now ta clear up!" Thereupon tha twelve dwarves-not Thorin, he was too blingin, n' stayed rappin' ta Gandalf-jumped ta they feet n' done cooked up tall pilez of all tha thangs. Off they went, not waitin fo' trays, balancin columnz of plates, each wit a forty on tha top, wit one hand, while tha hobbit ran afta em almost squeakin wit fright: "please be careful!" n' "please, don't shit, muthafucka! I can manage." But tha dwarves only started ta sing:

"Chip tha glasses n' crack tha plates!

Blunt tha knives n' bend tha forks!

Thatz what tha fuck Bilbo Baggins hates-

Smash tha fortyz n' burn tha corks!

Cut tha cloth n' tread on tha fat!

Pour tha gin n juice on tha pantry floor!

Leave tha bones on tha bedroom mat!

Splash tha wine on every last muthafuckin door!

Dump tha crocks up in a boilin bawl;

Pound em up wit a thumpin pole;

And when you've finished, if any is whole,

Send em down tha hall ta roll !

Thatz what tha fuck Bilbo Baggins hates!

So, carefully, muthafucka! Carefully wit tha plates!"

And of course they did none of these dreadful thangs, n' everythang was cleaned n' put away safe as quick as lightning, while tha hobbit was turnin round n' round up in tha middle of tha kitchen tryin ta peep what tha fuck they was bustin. Then they went back, n' found Thorin wit his wild lil' feet on tha fender tokin a pipe yo. Dude was blowin da most thugged-out enormous smoke-rings, n' wherever he busted some lyrics ta one ta go, it went-up tha chimney, and behind tha clock on tha man-telpiece, and under tha table, and round n' round tha ceiling; but wherever it went it was not quick enough ta escape Gandalf. Pop, muthafucka! he busted a smalla smoke-rin from his short clay-pipe straight all up in each one of Thorin's. Da Gandalfz smoke-rin would go chronic n' come back ta hover over tha wizardz head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude had like a cloud of em bout his ass already, n' up in tha dim light it done cooked up his ass look strange n' sorcerous. Bilbo stood still n' watched-he luddd smoke-rings-and then be blushed ta think how tha fuck proud he had been yesterdizzle mornin of tha smoke-rings he had busted up tha wind over Da Hill. "Now fo' some music!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Brin up tha instruments!"

Kili n' Fili rushed fo' they bags n' brought back lil fiddles; Dori, Nori, n' Ori brought up flutes from somewhere inside they coats; Bombur produced a drum from tha hall; Bifur n' Bofur went up too, n' came back wit clarinetz dat they had left among tha strutting-sticks Dwalin n' Balin holla'd: "Excuse me, I left mine up in tha porch!" "Just brang mine up in wit you," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They came back wit viols as big-ass as themselves, n' wit Thorinz harp wrapped up in a chronic cloth. It was a dope gold-en harp, n' when Thorin struck it tha noize fuckin started all at once, so sudden n' sweet dat Bilbo forgot everythang else, n' was swept away tha fuck into dark landz under strange moons, far over Da Gin N Juice n' straight-up far from his hobbit-hole under Da Hill. Da dark came tha fuck into tha room from tha lil window dat opened up in tha side of Da Hill; tha firelight flickered-it was April-and still they played on, while tha shadow of Gandalfz beard wagged against tha wall. Da dark filled all tha room, n' tha fire took a dirt nap down, n' tha shadows was lost, n' still they played on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And suddenly first one n' then another fuckin started ta rap as they played, deep-throated rappin of tha dwarves up in tha deep placez of they ancient cribs; n' dis is like a fragment of they song, if it can be like they cold lil' woo wop without they beatz. Drop dis like itz hot!

"Far over tha misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep n' caverns old

Our thugged-out asses must away ere break of day

To seek tha pale enchanted gold.

Da dwarvez of yore done cooked up mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringin bells

In places deep, where dark thangs chill,

In hollow halls beneath tha fells.

For ancient mackdaddy n' elvish lord

There nuff a gloamin golden hoard

They shaped n' wrought, n' light they caught

To hide up in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung

Da flowerin stars, on crowns they hung

Da dragon-fire, up in twisted wire

They meshed tha light of moon n' sun.

Far over tha misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep n' caverns old

Our thugged-out asses must away, ere break of day,

To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Gobletz they carved there fo' themselves

And harpz of gold; where no playa delves

There lay they long, n' nuff a song

Was sung unheard by pimps and elves.

Da pines was roarin on tha height,

Da windz was beatboxin up in tha night.

Da fire was red, it flamin spread;

Da trees like torches biased wit light,

Da bells was ringin up in tha dale

And pimps looked up wit faces pale;

Da dragonz ire mo' fierce than fire

Laid low they towers n' houses frail.

Da mountain smoked beneath tha moon;

Da dwarves, they heard tha tramp of doom.

They fled they hall ta dyin -fall

Beneath his wild lil' feet, beneath tha moon.

Far over tha misty mountains grim

To dungeons deep n' caverns dim

Our thugged-out asses must away, ere break of day,

To win our harps n' gold from him!"

As they busted tha hobbit felt tha ludd of dope thangs done cooked up by hands and by cunnin n' by magic movin all up in him, a fierce n' jealous ludd, tha desire of tha heartz of dwarves. Then some shiznit Tookish woke up inside him, n' he wished ta go n' peep tha pimped out mountains, n' hear tha pine-trees n' tha waterfalls, n' explore tha caves, n' wear a sword instead of a strutting-stick yo. Dude looked up of tha window. Da stars was up up in a dark sky above tha trees yo. Dude thought of tha jewelz of tha dwarves shinin up in dark caverns. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly up in tha wood beyond Da Gin N Juice a flame leapt up - probably some muthafucka lightin a wood-fire-and he thought of plunderin dragons settlin on his on tha down-low Hill n' kindlin it all ta flames yo. Dude shuddered; n' straight-up quickly he was plain Mista Muthafuckin Bagginz of Bag-End, Under-Hill, again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude gotz up tremblin yo. Dude had less than half a mind ta fetch tha lamp, n' mo' than half a mind ta pretend to, n' go n' hide behind tha brew barrels up in tha cellar, n' not come up again until all tha dwarves had gone away. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly he found dat tha noize n' tha rappin had stopped, n' they was all lookin at his ass wit eyes shinin up in tha dark.

"Where is yo ass going?" holla'd Thorin, up in a tone dat seemed ta sheezy dat he guessed both halvez of tha hobbitz mind.

"What on some lil light?" holla'd Bilbo apologetically.

"Our thugged-out asses like tha dark," holla'd tha dwarves. "Dark fo' dark bidnizz, muthafucka! There is nuff hours before dawn."

"Of course!" holla'd Bilbo, n' sat down up in a hurry yo. Dude missed tha stool n' sat up in tha fender, knockin over tha poker n' shovel wit a crash. "Hush!" holla'd Gandalf. "Let Thorin speak!" And dis is bow Thorin fuckin started. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Gandalf, dwarves n' Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses is not together up in tha crib of our playa n' fellow conspirator, dis most pimpin n' audacious hobbit-may tha afro on his cold-ass toes never fall out, muthafucka! all praise ta his wine n' ale!-" Dude paused fo' breath n' fo' a polite remark from tha hob-bit yo, but tha complimentz was like lost on-poor Bilbo Baggins, whoz ass was waggin his crazy-ass grill up in protest at bein called audacious n' worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So Thorin went on:

"Our thugged-out asses is kicked it wit ta say shit bout our plans, our ways, means, policy n' devices. Our thugged-out asses shall soon before tha break of dizzle start on our long journey, a journey from which a shitload of us, and like all of our asses (except our playa n' counsellor, tha ingenious wizard Gandalf) may never return. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It be a solemn moment. Our objec' is, I take it, well known ta our asses all. To tha estimable Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, n' like ta one and two of tha lil'er dwarves (I think I should be muthafuckin right up in namin Kili n' Fili, fo' instizzle), tha exact situation all up in tha moment may require a lil brief explanation-" This was Thorinz steez yo. Dude was a blingin dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like dis until he was up of breath, without spittin some lyrics ta any one there 'anythang dat was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Poor Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer fo' realz. At may never return he fuckin started ta feel a shriek comin up inside, n' straight-up soon it burst up like tha whistle of a engine comin up of a tunnel fo' realz. All tha dwarves sprang Bp knockin over tha table. Gandalf struck a blue light on tha end of his crazy-ass magic staff, n' up in itz firework glare tha poor lil hobbit could be peeped kneelin on tha hearth-rug, bobbin like a jelly dat was melting. Then he fell flat on tha floor, n' kept on callin up "struck by lightning, struck by lightning!" over n' over again; n' dat was all they could git up of his ass fo' a long-ass time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they took his ass n' laid his ass up of tha way on tha drawing-room sofa wit a drink at his wild lil' fuckin elbow, n' they went back ta they dark bidnizz.

"Excitable lil fellow," holla'd Gandalf, as they sat down again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Getz funny queer fitz yo, but he is one of tha best, one of tha best-as fierce as a dragon up in a pinch." If yo ass have ever peeped a dragon up in a pinch, yo ass will realise dat dis was only poetical exaggeration applied ta any hobbit, even ta Oldskool Tookz pimped out-granduncle Bullroarer, whoz ass was so big-ass (for a hobbit) dat he could ride a horse yo. Dude charged tha rankz of tha goblinz of Mount Gram up in tha Battle of the Chronic Fields, n' knocked they mackdaddy Gol-firnbulz head clean off wit a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yardz all up in tha air n' went down a rabbit hole, n' up in dis way tha battle was won n' tha game of Golf invented all up in tha same stupid-ass moment.

In tha meanwhile, however, Bullroarerz gentla descendant was revivin up in tha drawing-room fo' realz. Afta a while n' a drink he crept nervously ta tha door of tha parlour. This is what tha fuck he heard, Gloin bustin lyrics: "Humph!" (or some snort mo' and less like that). "Will he do, do yo ass think, biatch? It be all straight-up well fo' Gandalf ta rap bout dis hobbit bein fierce yo, but one shriek like dat up in a moment of excitement would be enough ta wake tha dragon n' all his bangin relatives, n' bust a cap up in tha lot of us. I think it sounded mo' like fright than excitement, muthafucka! In fact, if it bad not been fo' tha sign on tha door, I should have been shizzle our crazy-ass asses had come ta tha wrong crib fo' realz. As soon as I clapped eyes on tha lil fellow bobbin n' puffin on tha mat, I had mah doubtz yo. Dude looks mo' like a grocer-than a burglar!"

Then Mista Muthafuckin Baggins turned tha handle n' went in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da Took side had won. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude suddenly felt he would go without bed n' breakfast ta be thought fierce fo' realz. As fo' lil fellow bobbin on tha mat it almost done cooked up his ass straight-up fierce. Many a time afterwardz tha Baggins part regretted what tha fuck he did now, n' he holla'd ta his dirty ass: "Bilbo, yo ass was a fool; yo ass strutted muthafuckin right up in n' put yo' foot up in dat shit."

"Pardon me," he holla'd, "if I have overheard lyrics dat yo ass was saying. I don't pretend ta understand what tha fuck yo ass is rappin' about, and yo' reference ta burglars yo, but I think I be muthafuckin right up in believing" (this is what tha fuck he called bein on his fuckin lil' dignitizzle) "that yo ass think I be no phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I will sheezy yo ass fo'sho. I have no signs on mah door-it was painted a week ago-, n' I be like shizzle yo ass have come ta tha wrong crib fo' realz. As soon as I saw yo' funny faces on tha door-step, I had mah doubts. But treat it as tha muthafuckin right one. Tell mah crazy ass what tha fuck yo ass want done, n' I will try it, if I have ta strutt from here ta tha Eastside of Eastside n' fight tha wild Were-worms up in tha Last Desert. I bad a pimped out-pimped out-pimped out-granduncle once, Bullroarer Took, n' -" "Yes, yes yo, but dat was long ago," holla'd Gloin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "I was rappin' bout yo ass fo'sho fo' realz. And I assure yo ass there be a mark on dis door-the usual one up in tha trade, and used ta be. Burglar wantz a phat thang, nuff Excitement n' reasonable Reward, thatz how tha fuck it aint nuthin but probably read. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo Ass ^an say Expert Treasure-hunta instead of Burglar if yo ass like. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of em do. Itz all tha same stupid-ass ta us. Gandalf busted some lyrics ta our asses dat there was a playa of tha sort up in these partz lookin fo' a Thang at once, n' dat he had arranged fo' a meetin here dis Wednesdizzle tea-time."

"Of course there be a mark," holla'd Gandalf. "I put it there mah dirty ass. For straight-up phat reasons. Yo Ass axed mah crazy ass ta find tha fourteenth playa fo' yo' expedition, n' I chose Mista Muthafuckin Baggins. Just let any one say I chose tha wrong playa and tha wrong house, n' yo ass can quit at thirteen n' have all tha bad luck yo ass like, and go back ta diggin coal."

Dude scowled so angrily at Gloin dat tha dwarf huddled back up in his chair; n' when Bilbo tried ta open his crazy-ass grill ta ask a question, he turned n' frowned at his ass n' stuck oat his bushy eyebrows, till Bilbo shut his crazy-ass grill tight wit a snap. "Thatz muthafuckin right," holla'd Gandalf. "Letz have no mo' argument. I have chosen Mista Muthafuckin Baggins n' dat ought ta !6te enough fo' all of yo ass fo'sho. If I say he be a Burglar, a Burglar he is, and is ghon be when tha time comes. There be a shitload mo' up in his ass than yo ass guess, n' a deal mo' than he has any idea of his dirty ass. Yo Ass may (possibly) all live ta give props ta mah crazy ass yet. Now Bilbo, mah boy, fetch tha lamp, n' letz have lil light on this!"

On tha table up in tha light of a big-ass lamp wit a red shad he spread a piece of parchment rather like a map.

"This was done cooked up by Thror, yo' grandfather, Thorin, he holla'd up in answer ta tha dwarves' buckwild thangs. "It be a plan of tha Mountain." "I don't peep dat dis will help our asses much," holla'd Thorin pissed tha fuck offly afta a glizzle. "I remember tha Mountain well enough n' tha landz bout it fo' realz. And I know where Mirkwood is, n' tha Withered Heath where tha pimped out dragons bred."

"There be a dragon marked up in red on tha Mountain, holla'd Balin, "but it aint nuthin but ghon be easy as fuck enough ta find his ass without that, if ever our crazy-ass asses arrive there." "There is one point dat yo ass haven't noticed," holla'd tha wizard, "and dat is tha secret entrizzle. Yo Ass peep dat rune on tha Westside side, n' tha hand pointin ta it from tha other runes, biatch? That marks a hidden passage ta tha Lower Halls.

"It may have been secret once," holla'd Thorin, "but how tha fuck do our crazy-ass asses know dat it aint nuthin but secret any longer, biatch? Oldskool Smaug had lived there long enough now ta smoke up anythang there is ta know bout em caves."

"Dude may-but he can't have used it fo' muthafuckin years n' years. "Why?" "Because it aint nuthin but too small. 'Five feet high tha door n' three may strutt abreast' say tha runes yo, but Smaug could not creep tha fuck into a hole dat size, not even when he was a lil' dragon, certainly not afta devourin all kindsa muthafuckin of tha dwarves n' pimpz of Dizzy."

"It seems a pimped out big-ass hole ta me," squeaked Bilbo (who had no experience of dragons n' only of hobbit-holes) Dude was gettin buckwild n' interested again, so dat he forgot ta keep his crazy-ass grill shut yo. Dude luddd maps, n' up in his hall there hung a big-ass one of tha Ghetto Round wit all his wild lil' most straight-up bangin struttz marked on it up in red ink. "How tha fuck could such a big-ass door be kept secret from all y'all outside, apart from tha dragon?" he axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude was only a lil hobbit yo ass must remember.

"In fuckin shitloadz of ways," holla'd Gandalf. "But up in what tha fuck way dis one has been hidden our crazy-ass asses don't give a fuck without goin ta see. From what tha fuck it says on tha map I should guess there be a closed door which has been done cooked up ta look exactly like tha side of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That is tha usual dwarves' method - I think dat is muthafuckin right, aint it?" "Quite muthafuckin right," holla'd Thorin.

"Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot ta mention dat wit tha map went a key, a lil' small-ass n' curious key yo. Here it is!" he holla'd, n' handed ta Thorin a key wit a long-ass barrel n' intricate wards, done cooked up of silver. "Keep it safe!" "Indeed I will," holla'd Thorin, n' he fastened it upon a fine chain dat hung bout his neck n' under his jacket. "Now thangs begin ta look mo' hopeful. This shizzle altas em much for-the better. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So far our crazy-ass asses have had no clear idea what tha fuck ta do. Our thugged-out asses thought of goin Eastside, as on tha down-low n' careful as our crazy-ass asses could, as far as tha Long Lake fo' realz. Afta dat tha shizzle would begin." "A long time before that, if I know anythang bout tha loadz Eastside," interrupted Gandalf.

"Our thugged-out asses might go from there up along tha River Hustlin," went on Thorin takin no notice, "and so ta tha ruinz of Dizzy-the oldschool hood up in tha valley there, under tha shadow of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But our crazy-ass asses none of our asses dug tha idea of tha Front Gate. Da river runs muthafuckin right up of it all up in tha pimped out cliff all up in tha Downtown of tha Mountain, n' up of it comes tha dragon too-far too often, unless he has chizzled."

"That would be no phat," holla'd tha wizard, "not without a mighty Warrior, even a Hero. I tried ta find one; but warriors is busy fightin one another up in distant lands, n' up in dis neighbourhood heroes is scarce, and simply lot ta be found. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Slyrics up in these partz is mostly blunt, n' axes is used fo' trees, n' shieldz as cradlez and dish-covers; n' dragons is comfortably far-off (and therefore legendary). That is why I settled on burglary-especially when I remembered tha existence of a Side-door fo' realz. And here is our lil Bilbo Baggins, tha burglar, tha chosen n' selected burglar. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So now letz git on n' cook up some fuckin plans."

"Straight-up well then," holla'd Thorin, "supposin tha burglar-expert gives our asses some ideas and suggestions." Dude turned wit mock-politenizz ta Bilbo. "First I should like ta know a bit mo' bout thangs," holla'd he, feelin all trippin n' a bit shaky inside yo, but so far still lookishly determined ta go on wit thangs. "I mean bout tha gold n' tha dragon, n' all that, n' how tha fuck it gotz there, n' whoz ass it belongs to, n' so on n' further." "Bless me!" holla'd Thorin, "haven't yo ass gotz a map, biatch? n' didn't yo ass hear our song, biatch? n' haven't our crazy-ass asses been rappin' bout all dis fo' hours?"

"All tha same, I should like it all plain n' clear," holla'd he obstinizzlely, puttin on his bidnizz manna (usually reserved fo' gangstas whoz ass tried ta borrow scrilla off him), n' bustin his dopest ta step tha fuck up wise n' prudent n' professionizzle n' live up ta Gandalfz recommendation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Also I should like ta know bout risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time required n' remuneration, n' so forth"-by which he meant: "What be I goin ta git up of it, biatch? n' be I goin ta come back kickin it?"

"O straight-up well," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Long ago up in mah grandfather Throrz time our gang was driven up of tha far North, n' came back wit all they wealth n' they tools ta dis Mountain on tha map. It had been discovered by mah far izzlestor, Thrain tha Oldskool yo, but now they mined n' they tunnelled n' they done cooked up huger halls n' pimped outa workshops -and up in addizzle I believe they found a phat deal of gold n' a pimped out nuff jewels too fo' realz. Anyway they grew immensely rich n' hyped, n' mah grandfather was Mack under tha Mountain again n' treated wit pimped out reverence by tha mortal men, whoz ass lived ta tha South, n' was gradually spreadin up tha Hustlin River as far as tha valley overshadowed by tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They built tha merry hood of Dizzy there up in em days. Macks used ta bust fo' our smiths, n' reward even tha least skilful most richly. Fathers would beg our asses ta take they lil playas as apprentices, n' pay our asses handsomely, especially up in chicken-supplies, which our crazy-ass asses never bothered ta grow and find fo' ourselves fo' realz. Altogether em was phat days fo' us, n' tha poorest of our asses had scrilla ta spend n' ta lend, n' leisure ta make dope thangs just fo' the. funk of it, not ta drop a rhyme of da most thugged-out marvellous n' magical toys, tha like of which aint ta be found up in tha ghetto now-a-days. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So mah grandfatherz halls became full of armour n' jewels n' carvings n' cups, n' tha toy-market of Dizzy was tha wonder of tha North.

"Undoubtedly dat was what tha fuck brought tha dragon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dragons steal gold n' jewels, yo ass know, from pimps n' elves n' dwarves, wherever they can find them; n' they guard they plunder as long as they live (which is practically forever, unless they is capped), n' never smoke up a brass rang of dat shit. Indeed they hardly know a phat bit of work from a bad, though they probably gotz a phat notion of tha current market value; n' they can't cook up a muthafuckin thang fo' themselves, not even mend a lil loose scale of they armour. There was fuckin shitloadz of dragons up in tha Uptown up in em days, n' gold was probably gettin scarce up there, wit tha dwarves flyin downtown and gettin capped, n' all tha general waste n' destruction dat dragons make goin from bad ta worse. There was a most specially greedy, strong n' wicked worm called Smaug. One dizzle he flew up tha fuck into tha air n' came south. Da first our crazy-ass asses heard of it was a noise like a hurricane comin from tha North, n' tha pine-trees on tha Mountain creakin n' crackin up in tha wind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Some of tha dwarves whoz ass happened ta be outside (I was one luckily -a fine adventurous lad up in em days, always wanderin about, n' it saved mah thuglife dat day)-well, from a phat way off our crazy-ass asses saw tha dragon settle on our mountain up in a spout of flame. Then he came down tha slopes n' when he reached tha woodz they all went up up in fire. By dat time all tha bells was ringin up in Dizzy n' tha warriors was arming. Da dwarves rushed up of they pimped out gate; but there was tha dragon waitin fo' them. None escaped dat way. Da river rushed up up in screw n' a fog fell on Dizzy, n' up in tha fog tha dragon came on em n' destroyed most of tha warriors-the usual unaiiight story, it was only too common up in em days. Then he went back n' crept up in all up in tha Front Gate n' routed up all tha halls, n' lanes, n' tunnels, alleys, cellars, mansions n' passages fo' realz. Afta dat there was no dwarves left kickin it inside, n' he took all they wealth fo' his dirty ass. Probably, fo' dat is tha dragons' way, he has piled it all up up in a pimped out heap far inside, n' chills on it fo' a bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Lata he used ta crawl up of tha pimped out gate n' come by night ta Dizzy, n' carry away gangstas, especially maidens, ta eat, until Dizzy was ruined, n' all tha gangstas dead and gone. What goes on there now I don't give a fuck fo' certain yo, but I don't suppose every last muthafuckin muthafucka lives nearer ta tha Mountain than tha far edge of tha Long Lake now-a-days.

"Da few of our asses dat was well outside sat n' wept up in hiding, n' cursed Smaug; n' there our crazy-ass asses was unexpectedly joined by mah daddy n' mah grandfather wit singed beards. They looked straight-up grim but they holla'd straight-up lil. When I axed how tha fuck they had gotz away, they busted some lyrics ta mah crazy ass ta hold mah tongue, n' holla'd dat one dizzle up in tha propa time I should know fo' realz. Afta dat our crazy-ass asses went away, n' our crazy-ass asses have had togit our livings as dopest our crazy-ass asses could up n' down tha lands, often enough sinkin as low as blacksmith-work and even coalmining. But our crazy-ass asses have never forgotten our jacked treasure fo' realz. And even now, when I will allow our crazy-ass asses gotz a phat bit laid by n' is not so badly off"-here Thorin stroked tha gold chain round his neck-"we still mean ta git it back, n' ta brang our curses home ta Smaug-if our crazy-ass asses can.

"I have often wondered bout mah fatherz n' mah grandfatherz escape. I peep now they must have had a private Side-door which only they knew about. But apparently they done cooked up a map, n' I should like ta know how tha fuck Gandalf gotz hold of it, n' why it did not come down ta me, tha muthafuckin rightful heir." "I did not 'get hold of it,' I was given it," holla'd tha wizard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yo Crazy-Ass grandfather Thror was capped, yo ass remember, up in tha minez of Moria by Azog tha Goblin -" "Curse his name, yes," holla'd Thorin.

"And Thrain yo' daddy went away on tha twenty-first of April, a hundred muthafuckin years ago last Thursday, n' has never been peeped by yo ass since-" "True, true," holla'd Thorin.

"Well, yo' daddy gave mah crazy ass dis ta give ta you; n' if I have chosen mah own time n' way of handin it over, yo ass can hardly blame me, thankin bout tha shizzle I had ta find yo ass fo'sho. Yo Crazy-Ass daddy could not remember his own name when he gave mah crazy ass tha paper, n' he never busted some lyrics ta mah crazy ass yours; so on tha whole I think I ought ta be praised n' gave props ta. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Here it is," holla'd he handin tha map ta Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "I don't understand," holla'd Thorin, n' Bilbo felt he would have dug ta say tha same. Da explanation did not seem ta explain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Yo Crazy-Ass grandfather," holla'd tha wizard slowly n' grimly, "gave tha map ta his fuckin lil hustla fo' safety before he went ta tha minez of Moria. Yo Crazy-Ass daddy went away ta try his fuckin luck wit tha map afta yo' grandfather was capped; n' fuckin shitloadz of adventurez of a most unpleasant sort he had yo, but he never gotz near tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. How tha fuck he gotz there I don't give a fuck yo, but I found his ass a prisona up in tha dungeonz of tha Necromizzler."

"Whatever was yo ass bustin there?" axed Thorin wit a shudder, n' all tha dwarves shivered.

"Never yo ass mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I was findin thangs out, as usual; n' a nasty dangerous bidnizz it was. Even I, Gandalf, only just escaped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I tried ta save yo' daddy yo, but it was too late yo. Dude was witless n' wandering, n' had forgotten almost everythang except tha map n' tha key." "Our thugged-out asses have long ago paid tha goblinz of Moria," holla'd Thorin; "we must give a thought ta tha Necromizzler." "Don't be absurd, muthafucka! Dude be a enemy like beyond tha powerz of all tha dwarves put together, if they could all be collected again from tha four cornerz of tha ghetto. Right back up up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da one muthafuckin thang yo' daddy wished was fo' his fuckin lil hustla ta read tha map n' bust tha key. Da dragon n' tha Mountain is mo' than big-ass enough tasks fo' you!"

"Hear, hear!" holla'd Bilbo, n' accidentally holla'd it aloud, "Hear what?" they all holla'd turnin suddenly towardz him, n' he was so flustered dat he answered "Hear what tha fuck I have gotz ta say!" "Whatz that?" they axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Well, I should say dat yo ass ought ta go Eastside n' gotz a look round.

Afta all there is tha Side-door, n' dragons must chill sometimes, I suppose.

If yo ass sit on tha doorstep long enough, I daresay yo ass will think of some shiznit fo' realz. And well, don't yo ass know, I think our crazy-ass asses have talked long enough fo' one night, if yo ass peep what tha fuck I mean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What bout bed, n' a early start, n' all that, biatch? I will give yo ass a phat breakfast before yo ass go."

"Before our crazy-ass asses go, I suppose yo ass mean," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Aren't yo ass tha burglar, biatch? And aint chillin on tha door-step yo' thang, not ta drop a rhyme of gettin inside tha door, biatch? But I smoke bout bed n' breakfast. I like eggs wit mah ham, when startin on a journey: fried not poached, n' mind yo ass don't break 'em."

Afta all tha others had ordered they breakfastz without so much as a please (which annoyed Bilbo straight-up much), they all gotz up. Da hobbit had ta find room fo' em all, n' filled all his spare-rooms n' done cooked up bedz on chairs n' sofas, before he gotz em all stowed n' went ta his own lil bed straight-up chillaxed n' not altogether aiiight. One muthafuckin thang he did make his crazy-ass mind up bout was not ta bother ta git up straight-up early n' cook all y'all elsez wretched breakfast. Da Tookishnizz was bustin off, n' he was not now like so shizzle dat he was goin on any journey up in tha mornin fo' realz. As he lay up in bed he could hear Thorin still hummin ta his dirty ass up in tha dopest bedroom next ta him:

"Far over tha misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep n' caverns old

Our thugged-out asses must away, ere break of day,

To find our long-forgotten gold."

Bilbo went ta chill wit dat up in his wild lil' fuckin ears, n' it gave his ass straight-up uncomfortable dreams. It was long afta tha break of day, when he woke up.


	2. Chapta 2 Roastin' Mutton, Bitches

Up jumped Bilbo, n' puttin on his fuckin lil' dressing-gown went tha fuck into tha dining-room. There he saw no muthafucka yo, but all tha signz of a big-ass n' hurried breakfast. There was a fearful mess up in tha room, n' pilez of unwashed crocks up in tha kitchen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Nearly every last muthafuckin pot n' pan he possessed seemed ta have been used. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da washing-up was so dismally real dat Bilbo was forced ta believe tha jam of tha night before had not been part of his bad dreams, as he had rather hoped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Indeed he was straight-up relieved afta all ta think dat they had all gone without him, n' without botherin ta wake his ass up ("but wit never a thank-you" he thought); n' yet up in a way he could not help feelin just a trifle pissed tha fuck off. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da feelin surprised his muthafuckin ass.

"Don't be a fool, Bilbo Baggins!" he holla'd ta his dirty ass, "thankin of dragons n' all dat outlandish nonsense at yo' age!" So be put on a apron, lit fires, boiled water, n' washed up. Then he had a ill lil breakfast up in tha kitchen before turnin up tha dining-room. By dat time tha sun was shining; n' tha front door was open, lettin up in a warm sprin breeze. Bilbo fuckin started ta whistle loudly n' ta forget bout tha night before. In fact he was just chillin down ta a ill lil second breakfast up in tha dining-room by tha open window, when up in strutted Gandalf. "My fuckin dear fellow," holla'd he, "whenever is yo ass goin ta come, biatch? What bout a early start?-and here yo ass is havin breakfast, and whatever yo ass call it, at half past ten, muthafucka! They left yo ass tha message, cuz they could not wait."

"What message?" holla'd poor Mista Muthafuckin Baggins all up in a fluster. "Great Elephants!" holla'd Gandalf, "yo ass is not at all yo ass dis morning-you have never dusted tha mantel - piece!"

"Whatz dat gotz ta do wit it, biatch? I have had enough ta do wit washin up fo' fourteen!"

"If yo ass had dusted tha mantelpiece yo ass would have found dis just under tha clock," holla'd Gandalf, handin Bilbo a note (written, of course, on his own note-paper).

This is what tha fuck he read:

"Thorin n' Company ta Burglar Bilbo greeting! For yo' hospizitizzleitizzle our sincerest props, n' fo' yo' offer of professionizzle assistizzle our grateful acceptizzle. Terms: chedda on delivery, up ta n' not exceedin one fourteenth of total profitz (if any); all travelin expenses guaranteed up in any event; funeral expenses ta be defrayed by our asses and our representatives, if occasion arises n' tha matta aint otherwise arranged for. Thinkin it unnecessary ta disturb yo' esteemed repose, our crazy-ass asses have proceeded up in advizzle ta make requisite preparations, n' shall await yo' bigged up thug all up in tha Chronic Dragon Inn, Bywater, at Pt II a.m. sharp. Trustin dat yo ass is ghon be punctual. Our thugged-out asses have tha honour ta remain.

Yours deeply,

Thorin & Co."

"That leaves yo ass just ten minutes. Yo Ass will have ta run," holla'd Gandalf.

"But-" holla'd Bilbo.

"No time fo' it," holla'd tha wizard.

"But-"holla'd Bilbo again.

"No time fo' dat either, muthafucka! Off yo ass go!"

To tha end of his fuckin lil' days Bilbo could never remember how tha fuck he found his dirty ass outside, without a hat, strutting-stick and say scrilla, and anythang dat he probably took when he went out; leavin his second breakfast half-finished n' like unwashed-up, pushin his keys tha fuck into Gandalfz hands, n' hustlin as fast as his wild lil' furry feet could carry his ass down tha lane, past tha pimped out Mill, across Da Water, n' then on fo' a whole mile and mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this, muthafucka! Straight-up puffed he was, when he gotz ta Bywata just on tha stroke of eleven, n' found he had come without a pocket-handkerchizzle!

"Bravo!" holla'd Balin whoz ass was standin all up in tha inn door lookin up fo' his muthafuckin ass. Just then all tha others came round tha corna of tha road from tha hood. They was on ponies, n' each pony was slung bout wit all kindz of baggages, packages, parcels, n' paraphernalia. There was a straight-up lil' small-ass pony, apparently fo' Bilbo.

"Up yo ass two get, n' off our crazy-ass asses go!" holla'd Thorin.

"I be awfully sorry," holla'd Bilbo, "but I have come without mah hat, n' I have left mah pocket-handkerchizzle behind, n' I haven't gotz any scrilla. I didn't git yo' note until afta 10.45 ta be precise."

"Don't be precise," holla'd Dwalin, "and don't worry, muthafucka! Yo Ass will have ta manage without pocket-handkerchizzles, n' a phat nuff other thangs, before yo ass git ta tha journeyz end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As fo' a hat, I have gotz a spare hood n' cloak up in mah luggage."

Thatz how tha fuck they all came ta start, joggin off from tha inn one fine mornin just before May, on laden ponies; n' Bilbo was bustin a dark-chronic hood (a lil weather-stained) n' a dark-chronic cloak borrowed from Dwalin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They was too big-ass fo' him, n' he looked rather comic. What his wild lil' daddy Bungo would have thought of him, I daren't think yo. His only comfort was he couldn't be mistaken fo' a dwarf, as he had no beard.

They had not been ridin straight-up long when up came Gandalf straight-up splendid on a white horse yo. Dude had brought a shitload of pocket-handkerchizzles, n' Bilboz pipe n' bluntz. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So afta dat tha jam went along straight-up merrily, n' they busted some lyrics ta stories and busted jointz as they rode forward all day, except of course when they stopped fo' meals. These didn't come like as often as Bilbo would have dug em yo, but still he fuckin started ta feel dat adventures was not so bad afta all fo' realz. At first they had passed all up in hobbit-lands, a wild respectable ghetto inhabited by decent folk, wit phat roads, a inn and two, n' now n' then a dwarf and a farmer amblin by on bidnizz. Then they came ta landz where gangstas was rappin strangely, n' busted jointz Bilbo had never heard before. Now they had gone on far tha fuck into tha Lone-lands, where there was no gangstas left, no inns, n' tha roadz grew steadily worse. Not far ahead was dreary hills, risin higher n' higher, dark wit trees. On a shitload of em was oldschool castlez wit a evil look, as if they had been built by wicked gangstas. Everythang seemed gloomy, fo' tha weather dat dizzle had taken a nasty turn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Mostly it had been as phat as May can be, even up in merry talez yo, but now it was cold n' wet. In tha Lone-landz they had ta camp when they could yo, but at least it had been dry.

"To think it will soon be June," grumbled Bilbo as he splashed along behind tha others up in a straight-up muddy track. It was afta tea-time; it was pourin wit rain, n' had been all day; his hood was drippin tha fuck into his wild lil' fuckin eyes, his cloak was full of water; tha pony was chillaxed n' stumbled on stones; tha others was too grumpy ta talk. "And I be shizzle tha rizla has gotz tha fuck into tha dry threadz n' tha fuck into tha chicken-bags," thought Bilbo. "Bother burglin n' everythang ta do wit it, muthafucka! I wish I was up in da crib up in mah ill hole by tha fire, wit tha kettle just beginnin ta sing!" It was not tha last time dat he wished that, muthafucka! Still tha dwarves jogged on, never turnin round and takin any notice of tha hobbit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somewhere behind tha grey cloudz tha sun must have gone down, fo' it fuckin started ta git dark. Wind gotz up, n' tha willows along tha river-bank bent n' sighed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I don't give a fuck what tha fuck river it was, a rushin red one, swollen wit tha rainz of tha last few days, dat came down from tha hills n' mountains up in front of them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.

Soon it was nearly dark. Da windz broke up tha grey clouds, n' a wanin moon rocked up above tha hills between tha flyin rags. Then they stopped, n' Thorin muttered some shiznit bout supper, "and where shall our crazy-ass asses git a dry patch ta chill on?" Not until then did they notice dat Gandalf was missing. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So far he had come all tha way wit them, never sayin if he was up in tha adventure and merely keepin em company fo' a while yo. Dude had smoked most, talked most, n' laughed most. But now he simply was not there at all, muthafucka! "Just when a wizard would have been most useful, too," groaned Dori n' Nori (who shared tha hobbitz views bout regular meals, fuckloadz n' often). They decided up in tha end dat they would have ta camp where they were. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So far they had not camped before on dis journey, n' though they knew dat they soon would have ta camp regularly, when they was among tha Misty Mountains n' far from tha landz of respectable gangstas, it seemed a bad wet evenin ta begin, on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

They moved ta a clump of trees, n' though it was drier under them, tha wind shook tha rizla off tha leaves, n' tha drip, drip, was most buggin fo' realz. Also tha mischizzle seemed ta have gotz tha fuck into tha fire. Dwarves can cook up a fire almost anywhere up of almost anythang, wind and no wind; but they could not do it dat night, not even Oin n' Gloin, whoz ass was specially phat at dat shit. Then one of tha ponies took fright at not a god damn thang n' bolted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude gotz tha fuck into tha river before they could catch him; n' before they could git his ass up again, Fili n' Kili was nearly drowned, n' all tha baggage dat he carried was washed away off his muthafuckin ass. Of course it was mostly chicken, n' there was mighty lil left fo' supper, n' less fo' breakfast. There they all sat glum n' wet n' muttering, while Oin n' Gloin went on tryin ta light tha fire, n' quarrellin bout dat shit.

Bilbo was sadly reflectin dat adventures is not all pony-rides up in May-sunshine, when Balin, whoz ass was always they look-out man, holla'd: "Therez a light over there!" There was a hill some way off wit trees on it, pretty thick up in parts. Out of tha dark masz of tha trees they could now peep a light shining, a reddish comfortable-lookin light, as it might be a fire and torches twinkling. When they had looked at it fo' some while, they fell ta jumpin off bout some shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some holla'd "no" n' some holla'd "yes." Some holla'd they could but go n' see, n' anythang was mo' betta than lil supper, less breakfast, n' wet threadz all tha night. Others holla'd: "These partz is none too well known, n' is too near tha mountains. Travellaz seldom come dis way now, nahmeean, biatch? Da oldschool maps is no use: thangs have chizzled fo' tha worse n' tha road is unguarded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They have seldom even heard of tha mackdaddy round here, n' tha less inquisitizzle yo ass be as yo ass go along, tha less shizzle yo ass is likely ta find." Some holla'd:

"Afta all there is fourteen of us." Others holla'd: "Where has Gandalf gotz to?" This remark was repeated by all y'all. Then tha rizla fuckin started ta pour down worse than ever, n' Oin n' Gloin fuckin started ta fight. That settled dat shit. "Afta all our crazy-ass asses have gotz a burglar wit us," they holla'd; n' so they done cooked up off, leadin they ponies (with all due n' propa caution) up in tha direction of tha light. They came ta tha hill n' was soon up in tha wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Up tha hill they went; but there was no propa path ta be seen, like fuckin might lead ta a crib and a farm; n' do what tha fuck they could they done cooked up a deal of rustlin n' cracklin n' creakin (and a phat deal of grumblin n' drafting), as they went all up in tha trees up in tha pitch dark.

Suddenly tha red light shone up straight-up bright all up in tha tree-trunks not far ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Now it aint nuthin but tha burglarz turn," they holla'd, meanin Bilbo. "Yo Ass must go on n' smoke up all bout dat light, n' what tha fuck it aint nuthin but for, n' if all is perfectly safe n' canny," holla'd Thorin ta tha hobbit. "Now scuttle off, n' come back quick, if all is well. If not, come back if yo ass can, muthafucka! It yo ass can't, hoot twice like a barn-owl n' once like a screech-owl, n' our crazy-ass asses will do what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses can."

Off Bilbo had ta go, before he could explain dat he could not hoot even once like any kind of owl any mo' than fly like a bat. But at any rate hobbitz can move on tha fuckin' down-lowly up in woods, straight-up on tha fuckin' down-lowly. They take a pride up in it, n' Bilbo had sniffed mo' than once at what tha fuck he called "all dis dwarvish racket," as they went along, though I don't sup-pose yo ass and I would notice anythang at all on a windy night, not if tha whole cavalcade had passed two feet off fo' realz. As fo' Bilbo struttin primly towardz tha red light, I don't suppose even a weasel would have stirred a whisker at dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, naturally, he gotz muthafuckin right up ta tha fire-for fire it was without disturbin every last muthafuckin muthafucka fo' realz. And dis is what tha fuck he saw. Three straight-up big-ass peeps chillin round a straight-up big-ass fire of beech-logs. They was toastin mutton on long spitz of wood, n' lickin tha gravy off they fingers. There was a fine toothsome smell fo' realz. Also there was a barrel of phat drink at hand, n' they was drankin up of jugs. But they was trolls.

Obviously trolls. Even Bilbo, up in spite of his sheltered life, could peep that: from tha pimped out heavy facez of them, n' they size, n' tha shape of they legs, not ta mention they language, which was not drawing-room fashizzle at all, at all.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton todizzle, n' blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow," holla'd one of tha trolls.

"Never a blinkin bit of manflesh have our crazy-ass asses had fo' long enough," holla'd a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What tha 'ell William was a-thinkin' of ta brang our asses tha fuck into these partz at all, beatz mah crazy ass - n' tha drink runnin' short, whatz more," he holla'd joggin tha elbow of William, whoz ass was takin a pull at his jug. William choked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Shut yer grill!" he holla'd as soon as he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yer can't expec' folk ta quit here fo' ever just ta be et by yo ass n' Bert. You've et a hood n' a half between yer, since our crazy-ass asses come down from tha mountains yo. How tha fuck much mo' d'yer want, biatch? And timez been up our way, when yer'd have holla'd 'thank yer Bizzle' fo' a ill bit o' fat valley mutton like what tha fuck dis is." Dude took a big-ass bite off a sheepz leg he was toasting, n' wiped his fuckin lips on his sleeve. Yes, I be afraid trolls do behave like that, even em wit only one head each fo' realz.

Afta hearin all dis Bilbo ought ta have done some shiznit at once. Either he should have gone back on tha fuckin' down-lowly n' warned his wild lil' playaz dat there was three fair-sized trolls at hand up in a nasty vibe, like likely ta try toasted dwarf, and even pony, fo' a chizzle; and else he should have done a bit of phat quick burglin fo' realz. A straight-up first-class n' legendary burglar would at dis point have picked tha trolls' pockets-it is nearly always worthwhile if yo ass can manage it-, pinched tha straight-up mutton off tha spite, purloined tha brew, n' strutted off without they noticin his muthafuckin ass. Others mo' practical but wit less professionizzle pride would like have stuck a dagger tha fuck into each of em before they observed dat shit. Then tha night could have been spent cheerily. Bilbo knew it yo. Dude had read of a phat nuff thangs he had never peeped and done yo. Dude was straight-up much alarmed, as well as disgusted; he wished his dirty ass a hundred milez away, n' yet-and yet somehow he could not go straight back ta Thorin n' Company empty-handed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So he stood n' hesitated up in tha shadows. Of tha various burglarious proceedings he had heard of pickin tha trolls' pocketz seemed tha least hard as fuck, so at last he crept behind a tree just behind William.

Bert n' Tomothy went off ta tha barrel. William was havin another drink. Then Bilbo plucked up courage n' put his fuckin lil hand up in Williamz enormous pocket. There was a purse up in it, as big-ass as a bag ta Bilbo. "Ha!" thought he warmin ta his freshly smoked up work as he lifted it carefully out, "this be a beginning!" It was, muthafucka! Trolls' purses is tha mischizzle, n' dis was no exception. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. " 'Ere, 'oo is you?" it squeaked, as it left tha pocket; n' William turned round at once n' grabbed Bilbo by tha neck, before he could duck behind tha tree.

"Blimey, Bert, look what tha fuck I've copped!" holla'd William.

"What tha fuck iz it?" holla'd tha others comin up.

"Lumme, if I knows, muthafucka! What is yer?"

"Bilbo Baggins, a bur - a hobbit," holla'd poor Bilbo, bobbin all over, n' wonderin how tha fuck ta make owl-noises before they throttled his muthafuckin ass. "A burrahobbit?" holla'd they a bit startled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Trolls is slow up in tha uptake, n' mighty suspicious bout anythang freshly smoked up ta them.

"Whatz a burrahobbit gotz ta do wit mah pocket, anyways?" holla'd William.

"And can yer cook 'em?" holla'd Tom.

"Yer can try," holla'd Bert, pickin up a skewer.

"Dude wouldn't make above a grillful," holla'd William, whoz ass had already had a fine supper, "not when he was skinned n' boned."

"P'raps there is mo' like his ass round about, n' our crazy-ass asses might cook up a pie," holla'd Bert. "Here you, is there any mo' of yo' sort a-sneakin' up in these here woods, yer nassty lil rabbit," holla'd he lookin all up in tha hobbitz furry feet; n' he picked his ass up by tha toes n' shook his muthafuckin ass.

"Yes, lots," holla'd Bilbo, before he remembered not ta give his wild lil' playaz away. "No, none at all, not one," he holla'd immediately afterwards. "What d'yer mean?" holla'd Bert, holdin his ass muthafuckin right away up, by tha afro dis time.

"What I say," holla'd Bilbo gasping. "And please don't cook me, kind sirs, muthafucka! I be a phat cook mah dirty ass, n' cook bet-ta than I cook, if yo ass peep what tha fuck I mean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I be bout ta cook dopely fo' you, a perfectly dope breakfast fo' you, if only yo ass won't have mah crazy ass fo' supper."

"Poor lil blighter," holla'd William yo. Dude had already had as much suppa as he could hold; also he had had fuckin shitloadz of brew. "Poor lil blighter, muthafucka! Let his ass go!"

"Not till he says what tha fuck he means by fuckin shitloadz n' none at all," holla'd Bert. "I don't wanna have mah crazy ass throat cut up in mah crazy ass chill yo. Hold his cold-ass toes up in tha fire, till he talks!"

"I won't have it," holla'd William. "I caught his ass anyway." "You're a fat fool, William," holla'd Bert, "as I've holla'd afore dis evening."

"And yo ass be a lout!"

"And I won't take dat from yo ass fo'sho. Bizzle Huggins," says Bert, n' putz his wild lil' fist up in Williamz eye.

Then there was a gorgeous row. Bilbo had just enough witz left, when Bert dropped his ass on tha ground, ta scramble up of tha way of they feet, before they was fightin like dawgs, n' callin one another all sortz of perfectly true n' applicable names up in straight-up loud voices. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they was locked up in one anotherz arms, n' rollin nearly tha fuck into tha fire kickin n' thumping, while Tomothy whacked at then both wit a branch ta brang em ta they senses-and dat of course only done cooked up em madder than ever. That would have been tha time fo' Bilbo ta have left. But his thugged-out lil' poor lil feet had been straight-up squashed up in Bertz big-ass paw, n' he had no breath up in his body, n' his head was goin round; so there he lay fo' a while panting, just outside tha circle of firelight. Right up in tha middle of tha fight up came Balin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da dwarves had heard noises from a distizzle, n' afta wait-in fo' some time fo' Bilbo ta come back, and ta hoot like a owl, they started off one by one ta creep towardz tha light as on tha fuckin' down-lowly as they could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! No soona did Tomothy peep Balin come tha fuck into tha light than he gave a wack howl. Trolls simply detest tha straight-up sight of dwarves (uncooked). Bert n' Bizzle stopped fightin immediately, n' "a sack, Tom, quick!" they holla'd, before Balin, whoz ass was wonderin where up in all dis commotion Bilbo was, knew what tha fuck was happening, a sack was over his head, n' he was down.

"Therez mo' ta come yet," holla'd Tom, "or I be mighty mistook. Lotz n' none at all, it is," holla'd he. "No burra - hobbitz yo, but fuckin shitloadz of these here dwarves. Thatz bout tha shape of it!"

"I reckon yo ass is muthafuckin right," holla'd Bert, "and we'd dopest git up of tha light."

And so they did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! With sacks up in they hands, dat they used fo' carryin off mutton n' other plunder, they waited up in tha shadows fo' realz. As each dwarf came up n' looked all up in tha fire, n' tha spilled jugs, n' tha gnawed mutton, up in surprise, pop, muthafucka! went a nasty smelly sack over his head, n' he was down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon Dwalin lay by Balin, n' Fili n' Kili together, n' Dori n' Nori n' Ori all up in a heap, n' Oin n' Gloin n' Bifur n' Bofur n' Bombur piled uncomfortably near tha fire.

"That'll teach 'em," holla'd Tom; fo' Bifur n' Bombur had given a shitload of shit, n' fought like mad, as dwarves will when cornered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thorin came last-and he was not caught unawares yo. Dude came expectin mischizzle, n' didn't need ta peep his wild lil' playas' legs stickin up of sacks ta tell his ass dat thangs was not all well yo. Dude stood outside up in tha shadows some way off, n' holla'd: "Whatz all dis shit, biatch? Who has been knockin mah gangstas about?"

"Itz trolls!" holla'd Bilbo from behind a tree. They had forgotten all bout his muthafuckin ass. "They're hidin up in tha bushes wit sacks," holla'd he. "O, muthafucka! is they?" holla'd Thorin, n' he jumped forward ta tha fire, before they could leap on his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude caught up a big-ass branch all on fire at one end; n' Bert gotz dat end up in his wild lil' fuckin eye before he could step aside. That put his ass up of tha battle fo' a bit. Bilbo did his dopest yo. Dude caught hold of Tomz leg-as well as he could, it was thick as a lil' tree-trunk -but he was busted spinnin up tha fuck into tha top of some bushes, when Tomothy kicked tha sparks up up in Thorinz face. Tomothy gotz tha branch up in his cold-ass teeth fo' that, n' lost one of tha front ones. It done cooked up his ass howl, I can rap fo'sho. But just at dat moment William came up behind n' popped a sack muthafuckin right over Thorinz head n' down ta his cold-ass toes fo' realz. And so tha fight ended. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A ill pickle they was all up in now: all neatly tied up up in sacks, wit three supa pissed trolls (and two wit burns n' bashes ta remember) chillin by them, jumpin off bout some shiznit whether they should roast em slowly, and mince em fine n' boil them, and just sit on em one by one n' squash em tha fuck into jelly: n' Bilbo up up in a bush, wit his threadz n' his skin torn, not darin ta move fo' fear they should hear his muthafuckin ass.

It was just then dat Gandalf came back. But no one saw his muthafuckin ass. Da trolls had just decided ta roast tha dwarves now n' smoke em later-that was Bertz idea, n' afta a shitload of argument they had all agreed ta dat shit. "No phat roastin 'em now, it'd take all night," holla'd a voice. Bert thought it was William's.

"Don't start tha argument all over-again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bizzle," he holla'd, "or it will take all night."

"Whoz a-jumpin off bout some shit?" holla'd William, whoz ass thought it was. Bert dat had spoken.

"Yo Ass are," holla'd Bert.

"You're a liar," holla'd William; n' so tha argument beg all over again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In tha end they decided ta mince em fine n' boil them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they gotz a black pot, n' they took up they knives.

"No phat boilin 'em, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses ain't gotz no water, n' itz a long-ass way ta tha well n' all," holla'd a voice. Bert n' William thought it was Tom's. "Shut up!" holla'd they, "or we'll never have done fo' realz. And yer can fetch tha gin n juice yerself, if yer say any mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!"

"Shut up yerself!" holla'd Tom, whoz ass thought it was Williamz voice. "Whoz jumpin off bout some shiznit but yo ass fo'sho. I'd like ta know, nahmeean?"

"You're a booby," holla'd William.

"Booby yerself!" holla'd Tom.

And so tha argument fuckin started all over again, n' went on hotta than ever, until at last they decided ta sit on tha sacks one by one n' squash them, n' boil em next time.

"Who shall our crazy-ass asses sit on first?" holla'd tha voice.

"Betta sit on tha last fellow first," holla'd Bert, whose eye had been damaged by Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude thought Tomothy was rappin'.

"Don't rap ta yerself!" holla'd Tom. "But if yo ass wantz ta sit on tha last one, sit on his muthafuckin ass. Which is he?"

"Da one wit tha yellow stockings," holla'd Bert.

"Nonsense, tha one wit tha grey stockings," holla'd a voice like William's.

"I done cooked up shizzle it was yellow," holla'd Bert.

"Yellow it was," holla'd William.

"Then what tha fuck did yer say it was grey for?" holla'd Bert.

"I never did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Tomothy holla'd dat shit."

"That I never did!" holla'd Tom. "It was you."

"Two ta one, so shut yer grill!" holla'd Bert.

"Who is yo ass a-talkin' to?" holla'd William.

"Now quit it!" holla'd Tomothy n' Bert together. "Da nightz gettin' on, n' dawn comes early. Letz git on wit it!"

"Dawn take yo ass all, n' be stone ta you!" holla'd a voice dat sounded like William's. But it wasn't. For just at dat moment tha light came over tha hill, n' there was a mighty twizzle up in tha branches. William never was rappin fo' he stood turned ta stone as he stooped; n' Bert n' Tomothy was stuck like rocks as they looked at his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. And there they stand ta dis day, all alone, unless tha birdz perch on them; fo' trolls, as yo ass probably know, must be underground before dawn, and they go back ta tha shiznit of tha mountains they is done cooked up of, n' never move again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That is what tha fuck had happened ta Bert n' Tomothy n' William. "Excellent!" holla'd Gandalf, as he stepped from behind a tree, n' helped Bilbo ta climb down up of a thorn-bush. Then Bilbo understood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was tha wizardz voice dat had kept tha trolls bickerin n' quarrelling, until tha light came n' done cooked up a end of them.

Da next muthafuckin thang was ta untie tha sacks n' let up tha dwarves. They was nearly suffocated, n' straight-up annoyed: they had not at all enjoyed lyin there listenin ta tha trolls bustin plans fo' roastin em n' squashin em n' mincin them. They had ta hear Bilboz account of what tha fuck had happened ta his ass twice over, before they was satisfied.

"Silly time ta go practisin pinchin n' pocket-picking," holla'd Bombur, "when what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses wanted was fire n' chicken!"

"And thatz just what tha fuck yo ass wouldn't have gotz of em fellows without a struggle, up in any case," holla'd Gandalf.

"Anyhow yo ass is wastin time now, nahmeean, biatch? Don't yo ass realize dat tha trolls must gotz a cave and a hole dug somewhere near ta hide from tha sun in, biatch? Our thugged-out asses must look tha fuck into it!"

They searched about, n' soon found tha markz of trolls' stony bootz goin away all up in tha trees. They followed tha tracks up tha hill, until hidden by bushes they came on a big-ass door of stone leadin ta a cave. But they could not open it, not though they all pushed while Gandalf tried various incantations.

"Would dis be any phat?" axed Bilbo, when they was gettin chillaxed n' supa pissed. "I found it on tha ground where tha trolls had they fight." Dude held up a largish key, though no diggitizzle William had thought it straight-up lil' small-ass n' secret. It must have fallen up of his thugged-out lil' pocket, straight-up luckily, before he was turned ta stone.

"Why on earth didn't yo ass mention it before?" they cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Gandalf grabbed it n' fitted it tha fuck into tha key-hole. Then tha stone door swung back wit one big-ass push, n' they all went inside. There was bones on tha floor n' a nasty smell was up in tha air; but there was a phat deal of chicken jumbled carelessly on shelves n' on tha ground, among a untidy litta of plunder, of all sortz from brass buttons ta potz full of gold coins standin up in a corner. There was fuckin shitloadz of clothes, too, hangin on tha walls-too lil' small-ass fo' trolls, I be afraid they belonged ta suckas-and among em was nuff muthafuckin slyricz of various makes, shapes, n' sizes. Two caught they eyes particularly, cuz of they dope scabbardz n' jewelled hilts. Gandalf n' Thorin each took one of these; n' Bilbo took a knife up in a leather sheath. It would have done cooked up only a tiny pocket-knife fo' a troll yo, but it was as phat as a short sword fo' tha hobbit.

"These look like phat blades," holla'd tha wizard, half drawin em n' lookin at em curiously. "They was not done cooked up by any troll, nor by any smith among pimps up in these partz n' days; but when our crazy-ass asses can read tha runes on them, our crazy-ass asses shall know mo' bout them."

"Letz git up of dis wack smell!" holla'd Fili So they carried up tha potz of coins, n' such chicken as was un-touched n' looked fit ta eat, also one barrel of ale which was still full. By dat time they felt like breakfast, n' bein straight-up hungry they did not turn they noses up at what tha fuck they had gotz from tha trolls' larder. Their own provisions was straight-up scanty. Now they had bread n' cheese, n' nuff ale, n' bacon ta toast up in tha emberz of tha fire fo' realz. Afta dat they slept, fo' they night had been disturbed; (and they did not a god damn thang mo' till tha afternoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Then they I brought up they ponies, n' carried away tha potz of gold, n' buried em straight-up secretly not far from tha track by tha river, puttin a pimped out nuff spells over them, just up in case they ever had the-chizzle ta come back n' recover them. When dat was done, they all mounted once more, n' jogged along again on tha path towardz tha Eastside. "Where did yo ass go to, if I may ask?" holla'd Thorin ta Gandalf as they rode along.

"To look ahead," holla'd he.

"And what tha fuck brought yo ass back up in tha nick of time?"

"Lookin behind," holla'd he.

"Exactly!" holla'd Thorin; "but could yo ass be mo' plain?" "I went on ta spy up our road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It will soon become dangerous n' hard as fuck fo' realz. Also I was anxious bout replenishin our lil' small-ass stock of provisions. I had not gone straight-up far, however, when I kicked it wit a couple playaz of mine from Rivendell."

"Wherez that?" axed Bilbo,

"Don't interrupt!" holla'd Gandalf. "Yo Ass will git there up in a few days now, if we're lucky, n' smoke up all bout it As I was sayin I kicked it wit two of Elrondz gangstas. They was hurryin along fo' fear of tha trolls. It was they whoz ass busted some lyrics ta mah crazy ass dat three of em had come down from tha mountains n' settled up in tha woodz not far from tha road; they had frightened everyone away from tha district, n' they waylaid strangers.

"I immediately had a feelin dat I was wanted back. Lookin behind I saw a fire up in tha distizzle n' done cooked up fo' dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So now yo ass know, nahmeean, biatch? Please be mo' careful, next time, and our crazy-ass asses shall never git anywhere!"

"Nuff props!" holla'd Thorin.


	3. Chapta 3 A Short Muthafuckin' Rest

They did not rap and tell stories dat day, even though tha weather improved; nor tha next day, nor tha dizzle after. They had begun ta feel dat danger was not far away on either side. They camped under tha stars, n' they horses had mo' ta smoke than they had; fo' there was nuff grass yo, but there was not much up in they bags, even wit what tha fuck they had gotz from tha trolls. One mornin they forded a river at a wide shallow place full of tha noise of stones n' foam. Da far bank was steep n' slippery. When they gotz ta tha top of it, leadin they ponies, they saw dat tha pimped out mountains had marched down straight-up near ta em fo' realz. Already they I seemed only a thugged-out dayz easy as fuck journey from tha feet of tha nearest. Dark n' drear it looked, though there was patchez of sunlight on itz brown sides, n' behind itz shouldaz tha tipz of snow-peaks gleamed.

"Is dat Da Mountain?" axed Bilbo up in a solemn voice, lookin at it wit round eyes yo. Dude had never peeped a muthafuckin thang dat looked so big-ass before. "Of course not!" holla'd Balin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "That is only tha beginnin of tha Misty Mountains, n' our crazy-ass asses have ta git through, and over, and under em somehow, before our crazy-ass asses can come tha fuck into Wilderland beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And it aint nuthin but a thugged-out deal of a way even from tha other side of em ta tha Lonely Mountain up in tha Eastside Where Smaug lies on our treasure."

"O!" holla'd Bilbo, n' just at dat moment he felt mo' fared than he eva remembered feelin before yo. Dude was thankin once again of his fuckin laid back chair before tha fire up in his wild lil' most straight-up bangin chillin-room up in his hobbit-hole, n' of tha kettle rappin. Not fo' tha last time!

Now Gandalf led tha way. "Our thugged-out asses must not miss tha road, and our crazy-ass asses shall be done for," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Our thugged-out asses need chicken, fo' one thang, n' rest up in reasonable safety-also it aint nuthin but straight-up necessary ta tackle tha Misty Mountains by tha proper path, and else yo big-ass booty is ghon git lost up in them, n' have ta come back n' start all up in tha beginnin again (if you eva git back at all)."

They axed his ass where he was bustin for, n' he answered: "Yo ass is come ta tha straight-up edge of tha Wild, as a shitload of y'all may know yo. Hidden somewhere ahead of our asses is tha fair valley of Rivendell where Elrond lives up in tha Last Homely House. I busted a message by mah playas, n' our crazy-ass asses is expected." That sounded ill n' comfortin yo, but they had not gotz there yet, n' it was not so easy as fuck as it soundz ta find tha Last Homely Doggy Den westside of tha Mountains. There seemed ta be no trees n' no valleys n' no hills ta break tha ground up in front of them, only one vast slope goin slowly up n' up ta hook up tha feet of tha nearest mountain, a wide land tha colour of heather n' crumblin rock, wit patches n' slashez of grass-chronic n' moss-chronic showin where gin n juice might be.

Mornin passed, afternoon came; but up in all tha silent waste there was no sign of any dwelling. They was growin anxious, fo' they now saw dat tha doggy den might be hidden almost anywhere between em n' tha mountains. They came on unexpected valleys, narrow wit deep sides, dat opened suddenly at they feet, n' they looked down surprised ta peep trees below em n' hustlin gin n juice all up in tha bottom. There was gullies dat they could almost leap over; but straight-up deep wit waterfalls up in them. There was dark ravines dat one could neither jump nor climb into. There was bogs, a shitload of em chronic pleasant places ta peep wit flowers growin bright n' tall; but a pony dat strutted there wit a pack on itz back would never have come up again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It was indeed a much wider land from tha ford ta tha mountains than eva you would have guessed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Bilbo was astonished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da only path was marked wit white stones a shitload of which was small, n' others was half covered wit moss and heather fo' realz.

Altogether it was a straight-up slow bidnizz followin tha track, even guided by Gandalf, whoz ass seemed ta know his way bout pretty well yo. His head n' beard wagged dis way n' dat as he looked fo' tha stones, n' they followed his head yo, but they seemed no nearer ta tha end of tha search when tha dizzle fuckin started ta fail. Tea-time had long gone by, n' it seemed supper-time would soon do tha same. There was moths flutterin about, n' tha light became straight-up dim, fo' tha moon had not risen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bilboz pony fuckin started ta stumble over rootz n' stones. They came ta tha edge of a steep fall up in tha ground so suddenly dat Gandalf s horse nearly slipped down tha slope. "Here it aint nuthin but at last!" he called, n' tha others gathered round his ass n' looked over tha edge. They saw a valley far below. They could hear tha voice of hurryin gin n juice up in rocky bed all up in tha bottom; tha scent of trees was up in tha air; n' there was a light on tha valley-side across tha water. Bilbo never forgot tha way they slithered n' slipped up in tha dusk down tha steep zig-zag path tha fuck into tha secret valley of Rivendell. Da air grew warma as they gotz lower, n' tha smell of tha pine-trees done cooked up his ass drowsy, so dat every last muthafuckin now n' again he nodded n' nearly fell off, and bumped his nozzle on tha ponyz neck. Their spiritz rose as they went down n' down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da trees chizzled ta beech n' oak, n' hire was a cold-ass lil laid back feelin up in tha twilight. Da last chronic had almost faded outta tha grass, when they came at length ta a open glade not far above tha bankz of tha stream.

"Hrnmm, muthafucka! it smells like elves!" thought Bilbo, n' he looked up all up in tha stars. They was burnin bright n' blue. Just then there came a funky-ass burst of cold lil' woo wop like laughter up in tha trees:

"O, muthafucka! What is you bustin,

And where is you going?

Yo Crazy-Ass ponies need shoeing!

Da river is flowing!

O, muthafucka! tra-la-la-lally

here down up in tha valley!

O, muthafucka! What is you seeking,

And where is you bustin?

Da faggotz is reeking,

Da bannocks is baking!

O, muthafucka! tril-lil-lil-lolly

the valley is jolly,

ha, muthafucka! ha!

O, muthafucka! Where is you going

With beardz all a-wagging?

No knowing, no knowing

What brangs Mista Baggins,

And Balin n' Dwalin

down tha fuck into tha valley

in June

ha, muthafucka! ha!

O, muthafucka! Will you be staying,

Or will you be flying?

Yo Crazy-Ass ponies is straying!

Da daylight is dying!

To fly would be folly,

To stay would be jolly

And listen n' hark

Till tha end of tha dark

to our tune

ha, muthafucka! ha.'"

So they laughed n' busted up in tha trees; n' pretty fair nonsense I daresay you be thinkin dat shit. Not dat they would care they would only laugh all tha mo' if you busted some lyrics ta em so. They was elvez of course. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon Bilbo caught glimpsez of em as tha darknizz deepened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude luddd elves, though he seldom kicked it wit them; but he was a lil frightened of em too. Dwarves don't git on well wit them. Even decent enough dwarves like Thorin n' his wild lil' playaz be thinkin em foolish (which be a straight-up foolish muthafuckin thang ta think), and git annoyed wit them. For some elves tease em n' laugh at them, n' most of all at they beards. "Well, well!" holla'd a voice. "Just look, muthafucka! Bilbo tha hobbit on a pony, mah dear, muthafucka! Isn't it delicious!"

"Most astonishin wonderful!"

Then off they went tha fuck into another cold lil' woo wop as ridiculous as tha one I have written down up in full fo' realz. At last one, a tall lil' fellow, came up from tha trees n' bowed ta Gandalf n' ta Thorin.

"Welcome ta tha valley!" he holla'd.

"Nuff props!" holla'd Thorin a funky-ass bit gruffly; but Gandalf was already off his horse n' among tha elves, rappin' merrily wit them. "Yo ass be a lil outta yo' way," holla'd tha elf: "that is, if yo ass is bustin fo' tha only path across tha gin n juice n' ta tha doggy den beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses will set you muthafuckin right yo, but you had dopest git on foot, until yo ass is over tha bridge fo' realz. Is you goin ta stay a funky-ass bit n' rap wit us, and will you go straight on, biatch? Supper is preparin over there," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I can smell tha Wood-fires fo' tha cooking."

Tired as he was, Bilbo would have dug ta stay awhile. Elvish rappin aint a muthafuckin thang ta miss, up in June under tha stars, not if you care fo' such thangs.

Also he would have dug ta gotz a gangbangin' few private lyrics wit these gangstas dat seemed ta know his name n' all bout him, although he had never been em before yo. Dude thought they opinion of his thugged-out adventure might be interesting. Elves know a shitload n' is wondrous folk fo' hype, n' know what tha fuck is goin on among tha gangstasz of tha land, as quick as gin n juice flows, and quicker. But tha dwarves was all fo' supper as soon 'as possible just then, n' would not stay. On they all went, leadin they ponies, till they was brought ta a phat path n' so at last ta tha straight-up brink of tha river. It was flowin fast n' noisily, as mountain-streams do of a summer evening, when sun has been all dizzle on tha snow far up above. There was only a narrow bridge of stone without a parapet, as narrow as a pony could well strutt on; n' over dat they had ta go, slow n' careful, one by one, each leadin his thugged-out lil' pony by tha bridle. Da elves had brought bright lanterns ta tha shore, n' they busted a merry cold lil' woo wop as tha jam went across.

"Don't dip yo' beard up in tha foam, father!" they cried ta Thorin, whoz ass was bent almost on ta his handz n' knees. "It be long enough without waterin dat shit."

"Mind Bilbo don't smoke all tha cakes!" they called. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Dude is too fat ta git all up in key-holez yet!"

"Hush, hush, muthafucka! Dope Muthafuckas, muthafucka! n' phat night!" holla'd Gandalf, whoz ass came last.

"Valleys have ears, n' some elves have over merry tongues. Dope night!" And so at last they all came ta tha Last Homely House, n' found itz doors flung wide.

Now it aint nuthin but a strange muthafuckin thang yo, but thangs dat is phat ta have n' days dat is phat ta spend is soon busted some lyrics ta about, n' not much ta dig; while thangs dat is uncomfortable, palpitatin, n' even gruesome, may cook up a phat tale, n' take a thugged-out deal of spittin some lyrics ta anyway. They stayed long up in dat phat house, fourteen days at least, n' they found it hard ta leave. Bilbo would gladly have stopped there fo' eva n' ever-even supposin a wish would have taken his ass muthafuckin right back ta his hobbit-hole without shit. Yet there is lil ta tell bout they stay.

Da masta of tha doggy den was a elf-playa-one of em gangstas whose fathers came tha fuck into tha strange stories before tha beginnin of History, tha warz of tha evil goblins n' tha elves n' tha straight-up original gangsta pimps up in tha North. In em dayz of our tale there was still some gangstas whoz ass had both elves n' heroez of tha Uptown fo' izzlestors, n' Elrond tha masta of tha doggy den was they chizzle yo. Dude was as noble n' as fair up in grill as a elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizzle, as venerable as a mackdaddy of dwarves, n' as kind as summer yo. Dude comes into. nuff talez yo, but his thugged-out lil' part up in tha rap of Bilboz pimped out adventure is only a lil' small-ass one, though blingin, as yo big-ass booty is ghon see, if our crazy-ass asses eva git ta tha end of it yo. His doggy den was perfect, whether you dug chicken, and chill, and work, and story-telling, and rappin, and just chillin n' thankin best, and a pleasant mixture of em all. Evil thangs did not come tha fuck into dat valley.

I wish I had time ta rap even a gangbangin' few of tha talez and one and two of tha jointz dat they heard up in dat crib fo' realz. All of them, tha ponies as well, grew refreshed n' strong up in a gangbangin' few days there. Their threadz was mended as well as they bruises, they tempers n' they hopes. Their bags was filled wit chicken n' provisions light ta carry but strong ta brang em over tha mountain passes. Their plans was improved wit tha dopest lyrics. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So tha time came ta mid - summer eve, n' they was ta go on again wit tha early sun on midsummer morning.

Elrond knew all bout runez of every last muthafuckin kind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That dizzle he looked all up in tha slyrics they had brought from tha trolls' lair, n' he holla'd: "These is not troll-make. They is oldschool slyrics, straight-up oldschool slyricz of tha High Elvez of tha Westside, mah kin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They was done cooked up up in Gondolin fo' tha Goblin-wars. They must have come from a thugged-out dragonz hoard and goblin plunder, fo' dragons n' goblins destroyed dat hood nuff ages ago. This, Thorin, tha runes name Orcrist, tha Goblin-cleaver up in tha ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a gangbangin' hyped blade. This, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer dat tha mackdaddy of Gondolin once wore. Keep em well!"

"Whence did tha trolls git them, I wonder?" holla'd Thorin lookin at his sword wit freshly smoked up interest.

"I could not say," holla'd Elrond, "but one may guess dat yo' trolls had plundered other plunderers, and come on tha remnantz of oldschool robberies up in some hold up in tha mountainz of tha North. I have heard dat there is still forgotten treasurez of oldschool ta be found up in tha deserted cavernz of tha minez of Moria, since tha dwarf n' goblin war."

Thorin pondered these lyrics. "I will keep dis sword up in honour," he holla'd.

"May it soon cleave goblins once again!"

"A wish dat is likely ta be granted soon enough up in tha mountains!" holla'd Elrond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But sheezy mah crazy ass now yo' map!" Dude took it n' gazed long at it, n' he shook his head; fo' if he did not altogether approve of dwarves n' they ludd of gold, he hated dragons n' they wack wickedness, n' he grieved ta remember tha ruin of tha hood of Dizzy n' itz merry bells, n' tha burned bankz of tha bright River Hustlin. Da moon was shinin up in a funky-ass broad silver crescent yo. Dude held up tha map n' tha white light shone all up in dat shit. "What tha fuck iz this?" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "There is moon-lettas here, beside tha plain runes which say 'five feet high tha door n' three may strutt abreast know what I be sayin biatch, biatch? " "What is moon-letters?" axed tha hobbit full of excitement yo. Dude luddd maps, as I have busted some lyrics ta you before; n' he also dug runes n' lettas n' cunnin handwriting, though when he wrote his dirty ass it was a funky-ass bit thin n' spidery.

"Moon-lettas is rune-lettas yo, but you cannot peep them," holla'd Elrond, "not when you look straight at them. They can only be peeped when tha moon shines behind them, n' what tha fuck is more, wit tha mo' cunnin sort it must be a moon of tha same stupid-ass shape n' season as tha dizzle when they was written. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da dwarves invented em n' wrote em wit silver pens, as yo' playaz could tell yo thugged-out ass. These must done been written on a midsummerz eve up in a cold-ass lil crescent moon, a long-ass while ago."

"What do they say?" axed Gandalf n' Thorin together, a funky-ass bit vexed like dat even Elrond should have found dis up first, though straight-up there had not been a cold-ass lil chizzle before, n' there would not done been another until phatnizz knows when.

"Stand by tha grey stone when tha thrush knocks," read Elrond, "and tha settin sun wit tha last light of Durinz Dizzle will shine upon tha key-hole." "Durin, Durin!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Dude was tha daddy of tha fatherz of tha eldest race of Dwarves, tha Longbeards, n' mah first izzlestor: I be his heir." "Then what tha fuck is Durinz Day?" axed Elrond.

"Da first dizzle of tha dwarves' New Year," holla'd Thorin, "is as all should know tha first, dizzle of tha last moon of Autumn on tha threshold of Winter. Our thugged-out asses still call it Durinz Dizzle when tha last moon of Autumn n' tha sun is up in tha sky together. But dis aint gonna help our asses much, I fear, fo' it passes our sbust a cap up in in these days ta guess when such a time will come again." "That remains ta be seen," holla'd Gandalf. "Is there any mo' writing?" "None ta be peeped by dis moon," holla'd Elrond, n' he gave tha map back ta Thorin; n' then they went down ta tha gin n juice ta peep tha elves dizzle n' rap upon tha midsummerz eve.

Da next mornin was a midsummerz mornin as fair n' fresh as could be dreamed: blue sky n' never a cold-ass lil cloud, n' tha sun ridin' dirty on tha water. Now they rode away amid jointz of farewell n' phat speed, wit they heartz locked n loaded fo' mo' adventure, n' wit a knowledge of tha road they must follow over tha Misty Mountains ta tha land beyond.


	4. Chapta 4 Over Hill n' Under Hill

There was nuff paths dat led up tha fuck into em mountains, n' nuff passes over them. But most of tha paths was cheats n' deceptions n' led nowhere and ta bad ends; n' most of tha passes was infested by evil thangs n' dreadful dangers. Da dwarves n' tha hobbit, helped by tha wise lyricz of Elrond n' tha knowledge n' memory of Gandalf, took tha muthafuckin right road ta tha muthafuckin right pass.

Long days afta they had climbed outta tha valley n' left tha Last Homely Doggy Den milez behind, they was still goin up n' up n' up. It was a hard path n' a thugged-out dangerous path, a cold-ass lil crooked way n' a lonely n' a long. Now they could look back over tha landz they had left, laid up behind em far below. Far, far away up in tha Westside, where thangs was blue n' faint, Bilbo knew there lay his own ghetto of safe n' laid back thangs, n' his fuckin lil hobbit-hole yo. Dude shivered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was gettin bitter cold up here, n' tha wind came shrill among tha rocks. Boulders, too, at times came gallopin down tha mountain-sides, let loose by middizzle sun upon tha snow, n' passed among em (which was lucky), and over they headz (which was alarming). Da nights was comfortless n' chill, n' they did not dare ta rap and rap too loud, fo' tha echoes was uncanny, n' tha silence seemed ta dislike bein broken-except by tha noise of gin n juice n' tha wail of wind n' tha crack of stone. "Da summer is gettin on down below," thought Bilbo, "and haybustin is goin on n' picnics. They is ghon be harvestin n' blackberrying, before our crazy-ass asses even begin ta go down tha other side at dis rate." And tha others was thankin equally gloomy thoughts, although when they had holla'd phat-bye ta Elrond up in tha high hope of a midsummer morning, they' had spoken gaily of tha passage of tha mountains, n' of ridin swift across tha landz beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They had thought of comin ta tha secret door up in tha Lonely Mountain, like dat straight-up next first moon of Autumn-" n' like it is ghon be Durinz Day" they had holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Only Gandalf had shaken his head n' holla'd nothang. Dwarves had not passed dat way fo' nuff muthafuckin years yo, but Gandalf had, n' he knew how tha fuck evil n' danger had grown n' thriven up in tha Wild, since tha dragons had driven pimps from tha lands, n' tha goblins had spread up in secret afta tha battle of tha Minez of Moria. Even tha phat planz of wise wizzlez like Gandalf n' of phat playaz like Elrond go astray sometimes when yo ass is off on dangerous adventures over tha Edge of tha Wild; n' Gandalf was a wise enough wizzle ta know dat shit.

Dude knew dat somethang unexpected might happen, n' he hardly dared ta hope dat they would pass without fearful adventure over em pimped out tall mountains wit lonely peaks n' valleys where no mackdaddy ruled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They did not fo' realz. All was well, until one dizzle they kicked it wit a thunderstorm - mo' than a thunderstorm, a thunder-battle. Yo ass know how tha fuck terrific a straight-up big-ass thunderstorm can be down up in tha land n' up in a river-valley; especially at times when two pimped out thunderstorms hook up n' clash. Mo' terrible still is thunder n' lightnin up in tha mountains at night, when storms come up from Eastside n' Westside n' make war. Da lightnin splintas on tha peaks, n' rocks shiver, n' pimped out crashes split tha air n' go rollin n' tumblin tha fuck into every last muthafuckin cave n' hollow; n' tha darknizz is filled wit overwhelmin noise n' sudden light. Bilbo had never peeped and imagined anythang of tha kind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was high up up in a narrow place, wit a thugged-out dreadful fall tha fuck into a thugged-out dim valley at one side of them. There they was shelterin under a hangin rock fo' tha night, n' he lay beneath a funky-ass blanket n' shook from head ta toe. When he peeped up up in tha lightning-flashes, he saw dat across tha valley tha stone-giants was up n' was hurlin rocks at one another fo' a. game, n' catchin them, n' tossin em down tha fuck into tha darknizz where they smashed among tha trees far below, and splintered tha fuck into lil bits wit a funky-ass bang. Then came a wind n' a rain, n' tha wind whipped tha rizla n' tha hail bout up in every last muthafuckin direction, so dat a overhangin rock was no protection at all. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they was gettin drenched n' they ponies was standin wit they headz down n' they tails between they legs, n' a shitload of em was whinnyin wit fright. They could hear tha giants guffawin n' shoutin all over tha mountainsides.

"This won't do at all!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "If our crazy-ass asses don't git blown off and drowned, and struck by lightning, our crazy-ass asses shall be picked up by some giant n' kicked sky-high fo' a gangbangin' football."

"Well, if you know of anywhere better, take our asses there!" holla'd Gandalf, whoz ass was feelin straight-up grumpy, n' was far from aiiight bout tha giants his dirty ass. Da end of they argument was dat they busted Fill n' Kili ta look fo' a funky-ass mo' betta shelter. They had straight-up sharp eyes, n' bein tha lil'est of tha dwarves by some fifty muthafuckin years they probably gots these sort of thangs (when all y'all could peep dat it was straight-up no bust bustin Bilbo). There is not a god damn thang like looking, if you wanna find somethang (or so Thorin holla'd ta tha lil' dwarves). Yo ass certainly probably find somethang, if you look yo, but it aint always like tha somethang you was after. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So it proved on dis occasion.

Soon Fili n' Kili came crawlin back, holdin on ta tha rocks up in tha wind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Our thugged-out asses have found a thugged-out dry cave," they holla'd, "not far round tha next corner; n' ponies n' all could git inside."

"Have you thoroughly explored it?" holla'd tha wizzle, whoz ass knew dat caves up up in tha mountains was seldom unoccupied.

"Yes, yes!" they holla'd, though all y'all knew they could not done been long bout it; they had come back too quick. "It aint all dat big, n' it do not go far back."

That, of course, is tha dangerous part bout caves: you don't give a fuck how tha fuck far they go back, sometimes, and where a passage behind may lead to, and what tha fuck is waitin fo' you inside. But now Fili n' Killz shizzle seemed phat enough. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they all gots up n' prepared ta move. Da wind was howlin n' tha thunder still growling, n' they had a funky-ass bidnizz gettin themselves n' they ponies along. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still it was not straight-up far ta go, n' before long they came ta a funky-ass big-ass rock standin up tha fuck into tha path. If you stepped behind, you found a low arch up in tha side of tha mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There was just room ta git tha ponies all up in wit a squeeze, when they had been unpacked n' unsaddled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As they passed under tha arch, it was phat ta hear tha wind n' tha rizla outside instead of all bout them, n' ta feel safe from tha giants n' they rocks. But tha wizzle was takin no risks yo. Dude lit up his wand - as he did dat dizzle up in Bilboz dining-room dat seemed so long ago, if you remember-, n' by its light they explored tha cave from end ta end.

It seemed like a gangbangin' fair size yo, but not too big-ass n' mysterious. It had a thugged-out dry floor n' some laid back nooks fo' realz. At one end there was room fo' tha ponies; n' there they stood (mighty glad of tha chizzle) screwing, n' champin up in they nosebags. Oin n' Gloin wanted ta light a gangbangin' fire all up in tha door ta dry they threadz yo, but Gandalf would not hear of dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they spread up they wet thangs on tha floor, n' gots dry ones outta they bundles; then they done cooked up they blankets comfortable, gots up they pipes n' blew smoke rings, which Gandalf turned tha fuck into different colours n' set ridin' dirty up by tha roof ta amuse them. They talked n' talked, n' forgot bout tha storm, n' discussed what tha fuck each would do wit his share of tha treasure (when they gots it, which all up in tha moment did not seem so impossible); n' so they dropped off ta chill one by one fo' realz. And dat was tha last time dat they used tha ponies, packages, baggages, tools n' paraphernalia dat they had brought wit them. It turned up a phat muthafuckin thang dat night dat they had brought lil Bilbo wit them, afta all. For somehow, he could not go ta chill fo' a long-ass while; n' when he did chill, he had straight-up nasty dreams yo. Dude dreamed dat a cold-ass lil crack up in tha wall all up in tha back of tha cave gots bigger n' bigger, n' opened wider n' wider, n' he was straight-up afraid but could not call up and do anythang but lie n' look. Then he dreamed dat tha floor of tha cave was givin way, n' he was slipping-beginnin ta fall down, down, phatnizz knows where ta fo' realz. At dat he raised up wit a wack start, n' found dat part of his fuckin lil' trip was true fo' realz. A crack had opened all up in tha back of tha cave, n' was already a wide passage yo. Dude was just up in time ta peep tha last of tha ponies' tails disappearin tha fuck into dat shit. Of course he gave a straight-up loud yell, as loud a yell as a hobbit can give, which is surprisin fo' they size.

Out jumped tha goblins, big-ass goblins, pimped out ugly-lookin goblins, fuckin shitloadz of goblins, before you could say rocks n' blocks. There was six ta each dwarf, at least, n' two even fo' Bilbo; n' they was all grabbed n' carried all up in tha crack, before you could say tinder n' flint. But not Gandalf. Bilboz yell had done dat much phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It had wakened his ass up wide up in a splintered second, n' when goblins came ta grab him, there was a terrible flash like lightnin up in tha cave, a smell like gunpowder, n' nuff muthafuckin of em fell dead as fuckin fried chicken.

Da crack closed wit a snap, n' Bilbo n' tha dwarves was on tha wrong side of it, muthafucka! Where was Gandalf, biatch? Of dat neither they nor tha goblins had any idea, n' tha goblins did not wait ta smoke up. It was deep, deep, dark, like fuckin only goblins dat have taken ta livin up in tha heart of tha mountains can peep through. Da passages there was crossed n' tangled up in all directions yo, but tha goblins knew they way, as well as you do ta tha nearest post-office n' tha way went down n' down, n' it was most horribly stuffy. Da goblins was straight-up rough, n' pinched unmercifully, n' chuckled n' laughed up in they wack stony voices; n' Bilbo was mo' unaiiight even than when tha troll had picked his ass up by his cold-ass toes yo. Dude wished again n' again fo' his ill bright hobbit-hole. Not fo' tha last time.

Now there came a glimmer of a red light before them. Da goblins fuckin started ta sing, and croak, keepin time wit tha flap of they flat feet on tha stone, n' bobbin they prisoners as well.

"Clap, muthafucka! Snap, muthafucka! tha black crack!

Grip, grab, muthafucka! Pinch, nab!

And down down ta Goblin-town

Yo ass go, mah lad!

Clash, crash, muthafucka! Crush, smash!

Hammer n' tongs, muthafucka! Knocker n' gongs!

Pound, pound, far underground!

Ho, ho, muthafucka! mah lad!

Swish, smack, muthafucka! Whip crack!

Batter n' beat, muthafucka! Yammer n' bleat!

Work, work, muthafucka! Nor dare ta shirk,

While Goblins quaff, n' Goblins laugh,

Round n' round far underground

Below, mah lad!"

It sounded truly terrifying. Da walls echoed ta tha clap, snap, muthafucka! n' tha crush, smash, muthafucka! n' ta tha ugly laughter of they ho, ho, muthafucka! mah lad, muthafucka! Da general meanin of tha cold lil' woo wop was only too plain; fo' now tha goblins took up whips n' whipped em wit a swish, smack!, n' set em hustlin as fast as they could up in front of them; n' mo' than one of tha dwarves was already yammerin n' bleatin like anythang, when they stumbled tha fuck into a funky-ass big-ass cavern. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It was lit by a pimped out red fire up in tha middle, n' by torches along tha walls, n' it was full of goblins. They all laughed n' stamped n' clapped they hands, when tha dwarves (with skanky lil Bilbo all up in tha back n' nearest ta tha whips) came hustlin in, while tha goblin-drivers whooped n' cracked they whips behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da ponies was already there huddled up in a cold-ass lil corner; n' there was all tha baggages n' packages lyin broken open, n' bein rummaged by goblins, n' smelt by goblins, n' fingered by goblins, n' quarreled over by goblins.

I be afraid dat was tha last they eva saw of em pimpin lil ponies, includin a jolly sturdy lil white fellow dat Elrond had lent ta Gandalf, since his horse was not suitable fo' tha mountain-paths. For goblins smoke horses n' ponies n' donkeys (and other much mo' dreadful thangs), n' they is always hungry. Just now however tha prisoners was thankin only of themselves. Da goblins chained they handz behind they backs n' linked em all together up in a line n' dragged em ta tha far end of tha cavern wit lil Bilbo tuggin all up in tha end of tha row.

There up in tha shadows on a big-ass flat stone sat a tremendous goblin wit a big-ass head, n' armed goblins was standin round his ass carryin tha axes n' tha bent slyrics dat they use. Now goblins is wack, wicked, n' bad-hearted.

They make no dope thangs yo, but they make nuff smart-ass ones. They can tunnel n' mine as well as any but da most thugged-out scapped dwarves, when they take tha shit, though they is probably untidy n' dirty yo. Hammers, axes, slyrics, daggers, pickaxes, tongs, n' also instrumentz of torture, they make straight-up well, and git other gangstas ta make ta they design, prisoners n' slaves dat have ta work till they die fo' want of air n' light. It be not unlikely dat they invented a shitload of tha machines dat have since shitd tha ghetto, especially tha ingenious devices fo' cappin' big-ass numberz of gangstas at once, fo' wheels n' engines n' explosions always delighted them, n' also not hittin dat shizzle wit they own handz mo' than they could help; but up in em days n' em wild parts they had not advizzled (as it is called) so far. They did not don't give a fuck bout dwarves especially, no mo' than they hated all y'all n' everythang, n' particularly tha orderly n' prosperous; up in some parts wicked dwarves had even done cooked up alliizzlez wit them. But they had a special grudge against Thorinz gangstas, cuz of tha war which you have heard mentioned yo, but which do not come tha fuck into dis tale; n' anyway goblins couldn't give a fuckin shizzle whoz ass they catch, as long as it is done smart-ass n' secret, n' tha prisoners is not able ta defend themselves.

"Who is these miserable peeps?" holla'd tha Great Goblin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Dwarves, n' this!" holla'd one of tha drivers, pullin at Bilboz chain so dat he fell forward onto his knees.

"Our thugged-out asses found em shelterin up in our Front Porch."

"What do you mean by it?" holla'd tha Great Goblin turnin ta Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Up ta no phat, I be bout ta warrant, muthafucka! Spyin on tha private bidnizz of mah gangstas, I guess, muthafucka! Thieves, I shouldn't be surprised ta learn, muthafucka! Murderers n' playaz of Elves, not unlikely, muthafucka! Come, muthafucka! What have you gots ta say?"

"Thorin tha dwarf at yo' service!" he replied-it was merely a polite nothang. "Of tha thangs which you suspect n' imagine our crazy-ass asses had no idea at all. Our thugged-out asses sheltered from a storm up in what tha fuck seemed a cold-ass lil convenient cave n' unused; not a god damn thang was further from our thoughts than inconveniencin goblins up in any way whatever." That was true enough!

"Urn!" holla'd tha Great Goblin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "So you say, muthafucka! Might I ask what tha fuck you was bustin up up in tha mountains at all, n' where you was comin from, n' where you was goin to, biatch? In fact I should like ta know all bout yo thugged-out ass. Not dat it willdo you much phat, Thorin Oakenshield, I know too much bout yo' folk already; but letz have tha truth, and I will prepare somethang particularly uncomfortable fo' you!"

"Our thugged-out asses was on a journey ta git on over ta our relatives, our nephews n' nieces, n' first, second, n' third cousins, n' tha other descendantz of our grandfathers, whoz ass live on tha Eastside side of these truly hospitable mountains," holla'd Thorin, not like knowin what tha fuck ta say all at once up in a moment, when obviously tha exact truth would not do at all.

"Dude be a liar, O truly tremendous one!" holla'd one of tha drivers. "Several of our gangstas was struck by lightnin up in tha cave, when our crazy-ass asses invited these creatures ta come below; n' they is as dead as stones fo' realz. Also he has not explained this!" Dude held up tha sword which Thorin had worn, tha sword which came from tha Trolls' lair.

Da Great Goblin gave a truly wack howl of rage when he looked at it, n' all his soldiers gnashed they teeth, clashed they shields, n' stamped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They knew tha sword at once. It had capped hundredz of goblins up in its time, when tha fair elvez of Gondolin hunted em up in tha hills and did battle before they walls. They had called it Orcrist, Goblin-cleaver yo, but tha goblins called it simply Biter. They hated it n' hated worse any one dat carried dat shit. "Murderers' n' elf-playas!" tha Great Goblin shouted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Slash them, muthafucka! Beat them, muthafucka! Bite them, muthafucka! Gnash them, muthafucka! Take em away ta dark holez full of snakes, n' never let em peep tha light again!" Dude was up in such a rage dat he jumped off his seat n' his dirty ass rushed at Thorin wit his crazy-ass grill open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Just at dat moment all tha lights up in tha cavern went out, n' tha pimped out fire went off poof, muthafucka! tha fuck into a tower of blue glowin smoke, muthafuckin right up ta tha roof, dat scattered piercin white sparks all among tha goblins. Da yells n' yammering, croaking, jibberin n' jabbering; howls, growls n' curses; shriekin n' skriking, dat followed was beyond description. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Several hundred wild pussies n' wolves bein roasted slowly kickin it together would not have compared wit dat shit. Da sparks was burnin holez up in tha goblins, n' tha smoke dat now fell from tha roof done cooked up tha air too thick fo' even they eyes ta peep through. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they was fallin over one another n' rollin up in heaps on tha floor, bitin n' kickin n' fightin as if they had all gone mad.

Suddenly a sword flashed up in its own light. Bilbo saw it go muthafuckin right all up in tha Great Goblin as he stood dumbfounded up in tha middle of his bangin rage yo. Dude fell dead, n' tha goblin soldiers fled before tha sword shriekin tha fuck into tha darkness.

Da sword went back tha fuck into its sheath. "Big up mah crazy ass quick!" holla'd a voice fierce n' on tha fuckin' down-low; n' before Bilbo understood what tha fuck had happened he was trottin along again, as fast as he could trot, all up in tha end of tha line, down mo' dark passages wit tha yellz of tha goblin-hall growin fainter behind his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. A pale light was leadin em on.

"Quicker, quicker!" holla'd tha voice. "Da torches will soon be relit." "Half a minute!" holla'd Dori, whoz ass was all up in tha back next ta Bilbo, n' a thugged-out decent fellow yo. Dude done cooked up tha hobbit scramble on his shouldaz as dopest he could wit his cold-ass tied hands, n' then off they all went at a run, wit a cold-ass lil clink-clink of chains, n' nuff a stumble, since they had no handz ta steady themselves with. Not fo' a long-ass while did they stop, n' by dat time they must done been muthafuckin right down up in tha straight-up mountainz heart.

Then Gandalf lit up his wand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Of course it was Gandalf; but just then they was too busy ta ask how tha fuck he gots there yo. Dude took up his sword again, n' again it flashed up in tha dark by itself. It burned wit a rage dat juiced it up gleam if goblins was about; now it was bright as blue flame fo' delight up in tha cappin' of tha pimped out lord of tha cave. It done cooked up no shizzle whatever of cuttin all up in tha goblin-chains n' settin all tha prisoners free as quickly as possible. This swordz name was Glamdrin tha Foe-hammer, if you remember. Da goblins just called it Beater, n' hated it worse than Biter if possible. Orcrist, too, had been saved; fo' Gandalf had brought it along as well, snatchin it from one of tha terrified guards. Gandalf thought of most thangs; n' though he could not do everythang, he could do a pimped out deal fo' playaz up in a tight comer.

"Is our crazy-ass asses all here?" holla'd he, handin his sword back ta Thorin wit a funky-ass bow. "Let mah crazy ass see: one-thatz Thorin; two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven; where is Fili n' Kili, biatch? Here they are, twelve, thirteen-and herez Mista Muthafuckin Baggins: fourteen, muthafucka! Well, well, muthafucka! it might be worse, n' then again it might be a phat deal better. No ponies, n' no chicken, n' no knowin like where our crazy-ass asses are, n' hordez of supa pissed goblins just behind, muthafucka! On our crazy-ass asses go!" On they went. Gandalf was like right: they fuckin started ta hear goblin noises n' wack cries far behind up in tha passages they had come through. That busted em on fasta than ever, n' as skanky Bilbo could not possibly go half as fast-for dwarves can roll along at a tremendous pace, I can rap , when they have to-they took it up in turn ta carry his ass on they backs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still goblins go fasta than dwarves, n' these goblins knew tha way mo' betta (they had done cooked up tha paths themselves), n' was madly supa pissed; so dat do what tha fuck they could tha dwarves heard tha cries n' howls gettin closer n' closer. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they could hear even tha flap of tha goblin feet, nuff many feet which seemed only just round tha last corner. Da blink of red torches could be peeped behind em up in tha tunnel they was following; n' they was gettin deadly tired.

"Why, O why did I eva leave mah hobbit-hole!" holla'd skanky Mista Muthafuckin Baggins bumpin up n' down on Bomburz back.

"Why, O why did I eva brang a wretched lil hobbit on a treasure hunt!" holla'd skanky Bombur, whoz ass was fat, n' staggered along wit tha sweat drippin down his nozzle up in his heat n' terror.

At dis point Gandalf fell behind, n' Thorin wit his muthafuckin ass. They turned a sharp corner. "Bout turn!" he shouted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Draw yo' sword, Thorin!" There was not a god damn thang else ta be done; n' tha goblins did not like dat shit. They came scurryin round tha corner up in full cry, n' found Goblin-cleaver n' Foe-hammer shinin cold n' bright muthafuckin right up in they astonished eyes. Da ones up in front dropped they torches n' gave one yell before they was capped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da ones behind yelled still more, n' leaped back knockin over em dat was hustlin afta them. "Biter n' Beater!" they shrieked; n' soon they was all up in confusion, n' most of em was hustlin back tha way they had come.

It was like a long-ass while before any of em dared ta turn dat comer. By dat time tha dwarves had gone on again, a long, long, way on tha fuck into tha dark tunnelz of tha goblins' realm. When tha goblins discovered that, they put up they torches n' they slipped on soft shoes, n' they chose up they straight-up quickest runners wit tha sharpest ears n' eyes. These ran forward, as swift as weasels up in tha dark, n' wit hardly any mo' noise than bats. That is why neither Bilbo, nor tha dwarves, nor even Gandalf heard em coming. Nor did they peep them. But they was peeped by tha goblins dat ran silently up behind, fo' Gandalf was lettin his wand give up a gangbangin' faint light ta help tha dwarves as they went along.

Quite suddenly Dori, now all up in tha back again carryin Bilbo, was grabbed from behind up in tha dark yo. Dude shouted n' fell; n' tha hobbit rolled off his shouldaz tha fuck into tha blackness, bumped his head on hard rock, n' remembered not a god damn thang more.


	5. Chapta 5 Riddlez Up In Tha Dark

When Bilbo opened his wild lil' fuckin eyes, he wondered if he had; fo' it was just as dark as wit em shut. No one was anywhere near his muthafuckin ass. Just imagine his wild lil' fright, muthafucka! Dude could hear nothang, peep nothang, n' he could feel not a god damn thang except tha stone of tha floor.

Straight-up slowly he gots up n' groped bout on all fours, till he touched tha wall of tha tunnel; but neither up nor down it could he find anythang: not a god damn thang at all, no sign of goblins, no sign of dwarves yo. His head was swimming, n' he was far from certain even of tha direction they had been goin up in when he had his wild lil' fall yo. Dude guessed as well as he could, n' crawled along fo' a phat way, till suddenly his hand kicked it wit what tha fuck felt like a tiny rang of cold metal lyin on tha floor of tha tunnel. It was a turnin point up in his game yo, but he did not know it yo. Dude put tha rang up in his thugged-out lil' pocket almost without thankin; certainly it did not seem of any particular bust all up in tha moment yo. Dude did not go much further yo, but sat down on tha cold floor n' gave his dirty ass up ta complete miserableness, fo' a long-ass while yo. Dude thought of his dirty ass fryin bacon n' eggs up in his own kitchen up in da crib - fo' he could feel inside dat it was high time fo' some meal and other; but dat only done cooked up his ass miserabler.

Dude could not be thinkin what tha fuck ta do; nor could he be thinkin what tha fuck had happened; and why he had been left behind; and why, if he had been left behind, tha goblins had not caught him; and even why his head was so sore. Da truth was he had been lyin on tha fuckin' down-low, outta sight n' outta mind, up in a straight-up dark corner fo' a long-ass while.

After some time he felt fo' his thugged-out lil' pipe. It was not broken, n' dat was somethang. Then he felt fo' his thugged-out lil' pouch, n' there was some bluntz up in it, n' dat was somethang mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Then he felt fo' matches n' he could not find any at all, n' dat shattered his hopes straight-up. Just as well fo' him, as he agreed when he came ta his senses. Dopenizz knows what tha fuck tha strikin of matches n' tha smell of bluntz would have brought on his ass outta dark holez up in dat wack place. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still all up in tha moment he felt straight-up crushed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But up in slappin all his thugged-out lil' pockets n' feelin all round his dirty ass fo' matches his hand came on tha hilt of his fuckin lil sword - tha lil dagger dat he gots from tha trolls, n' dat he had like forgotten; nor do tha goblins seem ta have noticed it, as he wore it inside his breeches.

Now he drew it out. It shone pale n' dim before his wild lil' fuckin eyes. "So it be a elvish blade, too," he thought; "and goblins is not straight-up near, n' yet not far enough."

But somehow he was comforted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was rather splendid ta be bustin a funky-ass blade done cooked up up in Gondolin fo' tha goblin-warz of which all kindsa muthafuckin joints had sung; n' also he had noticed dat such weapons done cooked up a pimped out impression on goblins dat came upon em suddenly.

"Go back?" he thought. "No phat at all, muthafucka! Go sideways, biatch? Impossible, muthafucka! Go forward, biatch? Only muthafuckin thang ta do, muthafucka! On our crazy-ass asses go!" So up he got, n' trotted along wit his fuckin lil sword held up in front of his ass n' one hand feelin tha wall, n' his heart all of a patter n' a pitter.

Now certainly Bilbo was up in what tha fuck is called a tight place. But you must remember it was not like so tight fo' his ass as it would done been fo' mah crazy ass and fo' yo thugged-out ass yo. Hobbits is not like like ordinary gangstas; n' afta all if they holez is ill cheery places n' properly aired, like different from tha tunnelz of tha goblins, still they is mo' used ta tunnellin than our crazy-ass asses are, n' they do not easily lose they sense of direction underground-not when they headz have recovered from bein bumped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Also they can move straight-up on tha fuckin' down-lowly, n' hide easily, n' recover wonderfully from falls n' bruises, n' they gots a gangbangin' fund of wisdom n' wise sayings dat pimps have mostly never heard and have forgotten long ago. I should not have dug ta done been up in Mista Muthafuckin Baggins' place, all tha same. Da tunnel seemed ta have no end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All he knew was dat it was still goin down pretty steadily n' keepin up in tha same stupid-ass direction up in spite of a twist n' a turn and two. There was passages leadin off ta tha side every last muthafuckin now n' then, as he knew by tha glimmer of his sword, and could feel wit his hand on tha wall. Of these he took no notice, except ta hurry past fo' fear of goblins and half-imagined dark thangs comin outta them. On n' on he went, n' down n' down; n' still he heard no sound of anythang except tha occasionizzle whirr of a funky-ass bat by his wild lil' fuckin ears, which startled his ass at first, till it became too frequent ta bother about. I do not know how tha fuck long he kept on like this, hatin ta go on, not darin ta stop, on, on, until he was tireder than tired. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It seemed like all tha way ta tomorrow n' over it ta tha days beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Suddenly without any warnin he trotted splash tha fuck into water, muthafucka! Ugh, muthafucka! it was icy cold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That pulled his ass up sharp n' short yo. Dude did not know whether it was just a pool up in tha path, and tha edge of a underground stream dat crossed tha passage, and tha brink of a thugged-out deep dark subterranean lake. Da sword was hardly shinin at all yo. Dude stopped, n' he could hear, when he listened hard, drops drip-drip-drippin from a unseen roof tha fuck into tha gin n juice below; but there seemed no other sort of sound.

"So it aint nuthin but a pool and a lake, n' not a underground river," he thought. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still he did not dare ta wade up tha fuck into tha darknizz yo. Dude could not swim; n' he thought, too, of nasty slimy thangs, wit big-ass bulgin blind eyes, wrigglin up in tha water. There is strange thangs livin up in tha pools n' lakes up in tha heartz of mountains: fish whose fathers swam in, phatnizz only knows how tha fuck nuff muthafuckin years ago, n' never swam up again, while they eyes grew bigger n' bigger n' bigger from tryin ta peep up in tha blackness; also there is other thangs mo' slimy than fish. Even up in tha tunnels n' caves tha goblins have done cooked up fo' themselves there is other thangs livin unbeknown ta em dat have sneaked up in from outside ta lie up up in tha dark. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of these caves, too, go back up in they beginnings ta ages before tha goblins, whoz ass only widened em n' joined em up wit passages, n' tha original gangsta ballaz is still there up in odd comers, slinkin n' nosin about.

Deep down here by tha dark gin n juice lived oldschool Gollum, a lil' small-ass slimy creature. I don't give a fuck where he came from, nor whoz ass and what tha fuck he was yo. Dude was Gollum - as dark as darkness, except fo' two big-ass round pale eyes up in his cold-ass thin grill yo. Dude had a lil boat, n' he rowed bout like on tha fuckin' down-lowly on tha lake; fo' lake it was, wide n' deep n' deadly cold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude paddled it wit big-ass feet danglin over tha side yo, but never a ripple did he make. Not he yo. Dude was lookin outta his thugged-out lil' pale lamp-like eyes fo' blind fish, which he grabbed wit his fuckin long fingers as quick as thankin yo. Dude dug meat too. Goblin he thought phat, when he could git it; but he took care they never found his ass up yo. Dude just throttled em from behind, if they eva came down alone anywhere near tha edge of tha water, while he was prowlin about. They straight-up seldom did, fo' they had a gangbangin' feelin dat somethang unpleasant was lurkin down there, down all up in tha straight-up rootz of tha mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They had come on tha lake, when they was tunnellin down long ago, n' they found they could go no further; so there they road ended up in dat direction, n' there was no reason ta go dat way-unless tha Great Goblin busted them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes he took a gangbangin' fancy fo' fish from tha lake, n' sometimes neither goblin nor fish came back.

Actually Gollum lived on a slimy island of rock up in tha middle of tha lake yo. Dude was watchin Bilbo now from tha distizzle wit his thugged-out lil' pale eyes like telescopes. Bilbo could not peep his ass yo, but he was wonderin a shitload bout Bilbo, fo' he could peep dat he was no goblin at all.

Gollum gots tha fuck into his boat n' blasted off from tha island, while Bilbo was chillin on tha brink altogether flummoxed n' all up in tha end of his way n' his wits. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly up came Gollum n' whispered n' hissed:

"Bless our asses n' splash us, mah precioussss, muthafucka! I guess itz a cold-ass lil chizzle feast; at least a dirty morsel it'd make us, gollum!" And when he holla'd gollum he done cooked up a wack swallowin noise up in his cold-ass throat. That is how tha fuck he gots his name, though he always called his dirty ass 'my precious.'

Da hobbit jumped nearly outta his skin when tha hiss came up in his wild lil' fuckin ears, n' he suddenly saw tha pale eyes stickin up at his muthafuckin ass. "Who is yo slick ass?" he holla'd, thrustin his fuckin lil' dagger up in front of his muthafuckin ass. "What tha fuck izs he, mah preciouss?" whispered Gollum (who always was rappin ta his dirty ass all up in never havin every last muthafuckin muthafucka else ta drop a rhyme to). This is what tha fuck he had come ta smoke up, fo' he was not straight-up straight-up hungry all up in tha moment, only curious; otherwise he would have grabbed first n' whispered afterwards. "I be Mista Muthafuckin Bilbo Baggins. I have lost tha dwarves n' I have lost tha wizzle, n' I don't give a fuck where I am; n' "I don't wanna know, if only I can get,away."

"Whatz he gots up in his handses?" holla'd Gollum, lookin all up in tha sword, which he did not like like.

"A sword, a funky-ass blade which came outta Gondolin!"

"Sssss," holla'd Gollum, n' became like polite. "Praps ye sits here n' chats wit it a funky-ass bitsy, mah preciousss. It like riddles, praps it do, do it?" Dude was anxious ta step tha fuck up bumpin', at any rate fo' tha moment, n' until he found up mo' bout tha sword n' tha hobbit, whether he was like alone straight-up, whether he was phat ta eat, n' whether Gollum was straight-up hungry. Riddlez was all he could be thinkin of fo' realz. Askin them, n' sometimes guessin them, had been tha only game he had eva played wit other funny creatures chillin up in they holez up in tha long, long ago, before he lost all his wild lil' playaz n' was driven away, alone, n' crept down, down, tha fuck into tha dark under tha mountains. "Straight-up well," holla'd Bilbo, whoz ass was anxious ta agree, until he found up mo' bout tha creature, whether he was like alone, whether he was fierce and hungry, n' whether he was a gangbangin' playa of tha goblins.

"Yo ass ask first," he holla'd, cuz he had not had time ta be thinkin of a riddle.

So Gollum hissed:

"What has roots as no muthafucka sees,

Is talla than trees,

Up, up it goes,

And yet never grows?"

"Easy!" holla'd Bilbo. "Mountain, I suppose."

"Does it guess easy as fuck , biatch? It must gots a cold-ass lil competizzle wit us, mah preciouss, muthafucka! If precious asks, n' it don't answer, our crazy-ass asses smokes it, mah preciousss. If it asks us, n' our crazy-ass asses don't answer, then our crazy-ass asses do what tha fuck it wants, eh, biatch? Our thugged-out asses shows it tha way out, yes!"

"All right!" holla'd Bilbo, not darin ta disagree, n' nearly burstin his dome ta be thinkin of riddlez dat could save his ass from bein eaten.

"Thirty white horses on a red hill,

First they champ,

Then they stamp,

Then they stand still."

That was all he could be thinkin of ta ask-the idea of smokin was rather on his mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was rather a oldschool one, too, n' Gollum knew tha answer as well as you do.

"Chestnuts, chestnuts," he hissed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Teeth, muthafucka! teeth, muthafucka! mah preciousss; but our crazy-ass asses has only six!" Then he axed his second:

"Voiceless it cries,

Wingless flutters,

Toothless bites,

Grillless mutters."

"Half a moment!" cried Bilbo, whoz ass was still thankin uncomfortably bout eatin. Fortunately he had once heard somethang rather like dis before, n' gettin his wits back he thought of tha answer. "Wind, wind of course," he holla'd, n' he was so pleased dat he done cooked up up one on tha spot. "This'll puzzle tha nasty lil underground creature," he thought:

"An eye up in a funky-ass blue face

Saw a eye up in a chronicface.

"That eye is like ta dis eye"

Said tha straight-up original gangsta eye,

"But up in low place,

Not up in high place.""

"Ss, ss, ss," holla'd Gollum yo. Dude had been underground a long-ass long time, n' was forgettin dis sort of thang. But just as Bilbo was beginnin ta hope dat tha wretch would not be able ta answer, Gollum brought up memoriez of ages n' ages n' ages before, when he lived wit his stupid-ass grandmutha up in a hole up in a funky-ass bank by a river, "Sss, sss, mah preciouss," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Sun on tha daisies it means, it do."

But these ordinary aboveground everydizzle sort of riddlez was tirin fo' his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. Also they reminded his asz of days when he had been less lonely n' sneaky n' nasty, n' dat put his ass outta temper. What tha fuck iz mo' they done cooked up his ass hungry; so dis time he tried somethang a funky-ass bit mo' hard as fuck n' mo' unpleasant:

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,

Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.

It lies behind stars n' under hills,

And empty holez it fills.

It comes first n' bigs up after,

Endz life, kills laughter."

Unfortunately fo' Gollum Bilbo had heard dat sort of muthafuckin thang before; n' tha answer was all round his ass anyway. "Dark!" he holla'd without even scratchin his head and puttin on his cold-ass thankin cap.

"A box without hinges, key, and lid,

Yet golden treasure inside is hid,"

he axed ta bust time, until he could be thinkin of a straight-up hard one. This he thought a thugged-out dreadfully easy as fuck chestnut, though he had not axed it up in tha usual lyrics. But it proved a nasty poser fo' Gollum yo. Dude hissed ta his dirty ass, n' still he did not answer; he whispered n' spluttered.

After some while Bilbo became impatient. "Well, what tha fuck is it?" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Da answerz not a kettle boilin over, as you seem ta be thinkin from tha noise yo ass is bustin."

"Give our asses a cold-ass lil chizzle; let it give our asses a cold-ass lil chizzle, mah preciouss-ss-ss." "Well," holla'd Bilbo, afta givin his ass a long-ass chizzle, "what bout yo' guess?"

But suddenly Gollum remembered thievin from nests long ago, n' chillin under tha river bank teachin his stupid-ass grandmutha, teachin his stupid-ass grandmutha ta suck-"Eggses!" he hissed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Eggses it is!" Then he axed:

"A live without breath,

As cold as dirtnap;

Never thirsty, eva drankin,

All up in mail never clinking."

Dude also up in his cold-ass turn thought dis was a thugged-out dreadfully easy as fuck one, cuz he was always thankin of tha answer. But he could not remember anythang mo' betta all up in tha moment, he was so flustered by tha egg-question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All tha same stupid-ass it was a poser fo' skanky Bilbo, whoz ass never had anythang ta do wit tha gin n juice if he could help dat shit. I imagine you know tha answer, of course, and can guess it as easy as fuck as winking, since yo ass is chillin comfortably up in da crib n' have not tha danger of bein smoked ta disturb yo' thankin. Bilbo sat n' cleared his cold-ass throat once and twice yo, but no answer came.

After a while Gollum fuckin started ta hiss wit pleasure ta his dirty ass: "Is it nice, mah preciousss, biatch? Is it juicy, biatch? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?" Dude fuckin started ta peer at Bilbo outta tha darkness.

"Half a moment," holla'd tha hobbit shivering. "I gave you a phat long chizzle just now, nahmeean?"

"It must make haste, haste!" holla'd Gollum, beginnin ta climb outta his boat on ta tha shore ta git at Bilbo. But when he put his fuckin long webby foot up in tha water, a gangbangin' fish jumped up up in a gangbangin' fright n' fell on Bilboz toes. "Ugh!" he holla'd, "it is cold n' clammy!"-and so he guessed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Fish, muthafucka! Fish!" he cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It be fish!"

Gollum was dreadfully pissed tha fuck off; but Bilbo axed another riddle as quick as eva be could, so dat Gollum had ta git back tha fuck into his boat n' think.

"No-legs lay on one-leg, two-legs sat near on three-legs, four-legs gots some."

It was not straight-up tha muthafuckin right time fo' dis riddle yo, but Bilbo was up in a hurry. Gollum might have had some shizzle guessin it, if he had axed it at another time fo' realz. As it was, rappin' of fish, "no-legs" was not so straight-up difficult, n' afta dat tha rest was easy as fuck . "Fish on a lil table, playa at table chillin on a stool, tha pussaaaaay has tha bones"-that of course is tha answer, n' Gollum soon gave dat shit. Then he thought tha time had come ta ask somethang hard n' horrible. This is what tha fuck he holla'd:

"This muthafuckin thang all thangs devours:

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;

Gnaws iron, bites steel;

Grindz hard stones ta meal;

Slays king, ruins town,

And beats high mountain down."

Skanky Bilbo sat up in tha dark thankin of all tha wack namez of all tha giants n' ogres he had eva heard busted some lyrics ta of up in talez yo, but not one of em had done all these thangs yo. Dude had a gangbangin' feelin dat tha answer was like different n' dat he ought ta know it yo, but he could not be thinkin of it yo. Dude fuckin started ta git frightened, n' dat is bad fo' thankin. Gollum fuckin started ta git outta his boat yo. Dude flapped tha fuck into tha gin n juice n' paddled ta tha bank; Bilbo could peep his wild lil' fuckin eyes comin towardz his muthafuckin ass yo. His tongue seemed ta stick up in his crazy-ass grill; he wanted ta shout out: "Give mah crazy ass mo' time, muthafucka! Give mah crazy ass time!" But all dat came up wit a sudden squeal was:

"Time, muthafucka! Time!"

Bilbo was saved by pure luck. For dat of course was tha answer. Gollum was pissed tha fuck off once more; n' now he was gettin supa pissed, n' alsotired of tha game. It had done cooked up his ass straight-up hungry indeed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This time he did not go back ta tha boat yo. Dude sat down up in tha dark by Bilbo. That done cooked up tha hobbit most dreadfully uncomfortable n' scattered his wits.

"It aint nuthin but gots ta ask uss a quesstion, mah preciouss, yes, yess, yesss. Jusst one mo' quesstion ta guess, yes, yess," holla'd Gollum. But Bilbo simply could not be thinkin of any question wit dat nasty wet cold muthafuckin thang chillin next ta him, n' pawin n' pokin his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude scratched his dirty ass, he pinched his dirty ass; still he could not be thinkin of anythang.

"Ask us, muthafucka! ask us!" holla'd Gollum.

Bilbo pinched his dirty ass n' slapped his dirty ass; he gripped on his fuckin lil sword; he even felt up in his thugged-out lil' pocket wit his other hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There he found tha rang he had picked up up in tha passage n' forgotten about. "What have I gots up in mah pocket?" he holla'd aloud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude was rappin' ta his dirty ass yo, but Gollum thought it was a riddle, n' he was frightfully upset. "Not fair, muthafucka! not fair!" he hissed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It aint fair, mah precious, is it, ta ask our asses what tha fuck itz gots up in its nassty lil pocketses?"

Bilbo seein what tha fuck had happened n' havin not a god damn thang mo' betta ta ask stuck ta his question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "What have I gots up in mah pocket?" he holla'd louder. "S-s-s-s-s," hissed Gollum. "It must give our asses three guesseses, mah preciouss, three guesseses."

"Straight-up well, muthafucka! Guess away!" holla'd Bilbo.

"Handses!" holla'd Gollum.

"Wrong," holla'd Bilbo, whoz ass had luckily just taken his hand up again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Guess again!"

"S-s-s-s-s," holla'd Gollum mo' upset than eva yo. Dude thought of all tha thangs he kept up in his own pockets: fishbones, goblins' teeth, wet shells, a funky-ass bit of bat-wing, a sharp stone ta sharpen his wild lil' fangs on, n' other nasty thangs yo. Dude tried ta be thinkin what tha fuck other gangstas kept up in they pockets. "Knife!" he holla'd at last.

"Wrong!" holla'd Bilbo, whoz ass had lost his some time ago. "Last guess!" Now Gollum was up in a much worse state than when Bilbo had axed his ass tha egg-question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude hissed n' spluttered n' rocked his dirty ass backwardz n' forwards, n' slapped his wild lil' feet on tha floor, n' wriggled n' squirmed; but still he did not dare ta waste his fuckin last guess.

"Come on!" holla'd Bilbo. "I be waiting!" Dude tried ta sound bold n' cheerful yo, but he did not feel at all shizzle how tha fuck tha game was goin ta end, whether Gollum guessed muthafuckin right and not.

"Timez up!" he holla'd.

"String, and nothang!" shrieked Gollum, which was not like fair-makin moves up in two guesses at once.

"Both wrong," cried Bilbo straight-up much relieved; n' he jumped at once ta his wild lil' feet, put his back ta tha nearest wall, n' held up his fuckin lil sword. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude knew, of course, dat tha riddle-game was sacred n' of immense antiquity, n' even wicked creatures was afraid ta cheat when they played at dat shit. But he felt he could not trust dis slimy muthafuckin thang ta keep any promise at a pinch fo' realz. Any excuse would do fo' his ass ta slide outta it fo' realz. And afta all dat last question had not been a genuine riddle accordin ta tha ancient laws.

But at any rate Gollum did not at once battle his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude could peep tha sword up in Bilboz hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude sat still, shiverin n' whisperin fo' realz. At last Bilbo could wait no longer.

"Well?" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What bout yo' promise, biatch? I wanna go. Yo ass must sheezy mah crazy ass tha way."

"Did our crazy-ass asses say so, precious, biatch? Show tha nassty lil Baggins tha way out, yes, yes. But what tha fuck has it gots up in its pocketses, eh, biatch? Not string, precious yo, but not nothang. Oh no, muthafucka! gollum!"

"Never you mind," holla'd Bilbo. "A promise be a promise." "Cross it is, impatient, precious," hissed Gollum. "But it must wait, yes it must. Our thugged-out asses can't go up tha tunnels so hasty. Our thugged-out asses must go n' git some thangs first, yes, thangs ta help us."

"Well, hurry up!" holla'd Bilbo, relieved ta be thinkin of Gollum goin away yo. Dude thought he was just bustin a excuse n' did not mean ta come back. What was Gollum rappin' about, biatch? What useful muthafuckin thang could he keep up on tha dark lake?

But he was wrong. Gollum did mean ta come back yo. Dude was supa pissed now n' hungry. And he was a miserable wicked creature, n' already he had a plan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Not far away was his crazy-ass muthafuckin island, of which Bilbo knew nothang, n' there up in his hiding-place he kept a gangbangin' few wretched oddments, n' one straight-up dope thang, straight-up dope, straight-up wonderful yo. Dude had a ring, a golden ring, a precious ring.

"My fuckin birthday-present!" he whispered ta his dirty ass, as he had often done up in tha endless dark days. "Thatz what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses wants now, yes; our crazy-ass asses wants it!" Dude wanted it cuz it was a rang of power, n' if you slipped dat rang on yo' finger, you was invisible; only up in tha full sunlight could you be seen, n' then only by yo' shadow, n' dat would be shaky n' faint. "My fuckin birthday-present, muthafucka! It came ta mah crazy ass on mah birthday, mah precious," So he had always holla'd ta his dirty ass. But whoz ass knows how tha fuck Gollum came by dat present, ages ago up in tha oldschool days when such rings was still at big-ass up in tha ghetto, biatch? Perhaps even tha Masta whoz ass ruled em could not have holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Gollum used ta wear it at first, till it chillaxed him; n' then he kept it up in a pouch next his skin, till it galled him; n' now probably he hid it up in a hole up in tha rock on his crazy-ass muthafuckin island, n' was always goin back ta peep it fo' realz. And still sometimes he put it on, when he could not bear ta be parted from it any longer, and when he was hella, hella, hungry, n' chillaxed of fish. Then he would creep along dark passages lookin fo' stray goblins yo. Dude might even venture tha fuck into places where tha torches was lit n' done cooked up his wild lil' fuckin eyes blink n' smart; fo' he would be safe. Oh yes, like safe. No one would peep him, no one would notice him, till he had his wild lil' fingers on they throat. Only a gangbangin' few hours ago he had worn it, n' caught a lil' small-ass goblin-imp yo. How tha fuck it squeaked, muthafucka! Dude still had a funky-ass bone and two left ta gnaw yo, but he wanted somethang softer.

"Quite safe, yes," he whispered ta his dirty ass. "It won't peep us, will it, mah precious, biatch? No. It won't peep us, n' its nassty lil sword is ghon be useless, yes like."

That is what tha fuck was up in his wicked lil mind, as he slipped suddenly from Bilboz side, n' flapped back ta his boat, n' went off tha fuck into tha dark. Bilbo thought he had heard tha last of his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still he waited a while; fo' he had no idea how tha fuck ta find his way up alone.

Suddenly he heard a screech. It busted a shiver down his back. Gollum was cursin n' beatboxin away up in tha gloom, not straight-up far off by tha sound of it yo. Dude was on his crazy-ass muthafuckin island, scrabblin here n' there, searchin n' seekin up in vain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Where is it, biatch? Where iss it?" Bilbo heard his ass bustin up. "Losst it is, mah precious, lost, lost, muthafucka! Curse our asses n' crush us, mah precious is lost!" "Whatz tha matter?" Bilbo called. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What have you lost?" "It mustn't ask us," shrieked Gollum. "Not its bidnizz, no, gollum, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but losst, gollum, gollum, gollum."

"Well, so be I," cried Bilbo, "and I wanna git unlost fo' realz. And I won tha game, n' you promised. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So come along, muthafucka! Come n' let mah crazy ass out, n' then go on wit yo' looking!"

Utterly miserable as Gollum sounded, Bilbo could not find much pitizzle up in his heart, n' he had a gangbangin' feelin dat anythang Gollum wanted so much could hardly be somethang phat.

"Come along!" he shouted.

"Fuck dat shit, not yet, precious!" Gollum answered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Our thugged-out asses must search fo' it, itz lost, gollum."

"But you never guessed mah last question, n' you promised," holla'd Bilbo. "Never guessed!" holla'd Gollum. Then suddenly outta tha gloom came a sharp hiss. "What has it gots up in its pocketses, biatch? Tell our asses dat shit. It must tell first." As far as Bilbo knew, there was no particular reason why he should not tell. Gollumz mind had jumped ta a guess quicker than his; naturally, fo' Gollum had brooded fo' ages on dis one thang, n' he was always afraid of its bein jacked. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But Bilbo was annoyed all up in tha delay fo' realz. After all, he had won tha game, pretty fairly, at a wack risk. "Lyrics was ta be guessed not given," he holla'd.

"But it wasn't a gangbangin' fair question," holla'd Gollum. "Not a riddle, precious, no."

"Oh well, if itz a matter of ordinary thangs," Bilbo replied, "then I axed one first. What have you lost, biatch? Tell mah crazy ass that!"

"What has it gots up in its pocketses?" Da sound came hissin louder n' sharper, n' as he looked towardz it, ta his thugged-out alarm Bilbo now saw two lil' small-ass pointz of light peerin at his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. As suspicion grew up in Gollumz mind, tha light of his wild lil' fuckin eyes burned wit a pale flame.

"What have you lost?" Bilbo persisted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But now tha light up in Gollumz eyes had become a chronicfire, n' it was comin swiftly nearer. Gollum was up in his boat again, paddlin wildly back ta tha dark shore; n' such a rage of loss n' suspicion was up in his heart dat no sword had any mo' terror fo' his muthafuckin ass. Bilbo could not guess what tha fuck had maddened tha wretched creature yo, but he saw dat all was up, n' dat Gollum meant ta cappin' his ass at any rate. Just up in time he turned n' ran blindly back up tha dark passage down which he had come, keepin close ta tha wall n' feelin it wit his fuckin left hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What has it gots up in its pocketses?" he heard tha hiss loud behind him, n' tha splash as Gollum leapt from his boat.

"What have I, I wonder?" he holla'd ta his dirty ass, as he panted n' stumbled along yo. Dude put his fuckin left hand up in his thugged-out lil' pocket. Da rang felt straight-up cold as it on tha fuckin' down-lowly slipped on ta his stupid-ass gropin forefinger.

Da hiss was close behind his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude turned now n' saw Gollumz eyes like lil' small-ass chroniclamps comin up tha slope. Terrified he tried ta run fasta yo, but suddenly he struck his cold-ass toes on a snag up in tha floor, n' fell flat wit his fuckin lil sword under his muthafuckin ass.

In a moment Gollum was on his muthafuckin ass. But before Bilbo could do anythang, recover his breath, pick his dirty ass up, and wave his sword, Gollum passed by, takin no notice of him, cursin n' whisperin as he ran. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What could it mean, biatch? Gollum could peep up in tha dark. Bilbo could peep tha light of his wild lil' fuckin eyes palely shinin even from behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Painfully he gots up, n' sheathed his sword, which was now glowin faintly again, then straight-up cautiously he followed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There seemed not a god damn thang else ta do. It was no phat crawlin back down ta Gollumz water. Perhaps if he followed him, Gollum might lead his ass ta some way of escape without meanin to.

"Curse it, muthafucka! curse it, muthafucka! curse it!" hissed Gollum. "Curse tha Baggins, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but gone, muthafucka! What has it gots up in its pocketses, biatch? Oh our crazy-ass asses guess, our crazy-ass asses guess, mah precious yo. Dude straight found it, yes he must have. My fuckin birthday-present." Bilbo pricked up his wild lil' fuckin ears yo. Dude was at last beginnin ta guess his dirty ass yo. H^ hurried a lil, gettin as close as he dared behind Gollum, whoz ass was still goin quickly, not lookin back yo, but turnin his head from side ta side, as Bilbo could peep from tha faint glimmer on tha walls.

"My fuckin birthday-present, muthafucka! Curse it, muthafucka! How tha fuck did our crazy-ass asses lose it, mah precious, biatch? Yes, thatz dat shit. When our crazy-ass asses came dis way last, when our crazy-ass asses twisted dat nassty lil' squeaker. Thatz dat shit. Curse it, muthafucka! It slipped from us, afta all these ages n' ages, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but gone, gollum."

Suddenly Gollum sat down n' fuckin started ta weep, a whistlin n' gurglin sound wack ta dig. Bilbo halted n' flattened his dirty ass against tha tunnel-wall fo' realz. After a while Gollum stopped weepin n' fuckin started ta rap yo. Dude seemed ta be havin a argument wit his dirty ass.

"It aint nuthin but no phat goin back there ta search, no. Our thugged-out asses don't remember all tha places we've hit up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And itz no use. Da Baggins has gots it up in its pocketses; tha nassty noser has found it, our crazy-ass asses says."

"Our thugged-out asses guesses, precious, only guesses. Our thugged-out asses can't know till our crazy-ass asses find tha nassty creature n' squeezes dat shit. But it don't give a fuck what tha fuck tha present can do, do it, biatch? It'll just keep it up in its pocketses. It don't give a fuck, n' it can't go far. It aint nuthin but lost itself, tha nassty nosey thang. It don't give a fuck tha way up It holla'd so."

"It holla'd so, yes; but itz tricksy. It don't say what tha fuck it means. It won't say what tha fuck itz gots up in its pocketses. It knows. It knows a way in, it must know a way out, yes. It aint nuthin but off ta tha back-door. To tha back-door, thatz dat shit."

"Da goblinses will catch it then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It can't git up dat way, precious." "Ssss, sss, gollum, muthafucka! Goblinses, muthafucka! Yes yo, but if itz gots tha present, our precious present, then goblinses will git it, gollum, muthafucka! They'll find it, they'll smoke up what tha fuck it do. Our thugged-out asses shan't eva be safe again, never, gollum, muthafucka! One of tha goblinses will put it on, n' then no one will peep his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude bout ta be there but not seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Not even our smart-ass eyeses will notice him; n' he'll come creepsy n' tricksy n' catch us, gollum, gollum!"

"Then letz quit rappin', precious, n' make haste. If tha Baggins has gone dat way, our crazy-ass asses must go quick n' see. Go, muthafucka! Not far now, nahmeean, biatch? Make haste!" With a sprin Gollum gots up n' started shamblin off at a pimped out pace. Bilbo hurried afta him, still cautiously, though his chizzle fear now waz of trippin on another snag n' fallin wit a noise yo. His head was up in a whirl of hope n' wonder. It seemed dat tha rang he had was a magic ring: it done cooked up you invisible, muthafucka! Dude had heard of such thangs, of course, up in oldschool old tales; but it was hard ta believe dat he straight-up had found one, by accident. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still there it was: Gollum wit his bright eyes had passed his ass by, only a yard ta one side. On they went, Gollum flip-flappin ahead, hissin n' cursing; Bilbo behind goin as softly as a hobbit can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they came ta places where, as Bilbo had noticed on tha way down, side-passages opened, dis way n' dat shit. Gollum fuckin started at once ta count them.

"One left, yes. One right, yes. Two right, yes, yes. Two left, yes, yes." And so on n' on.

As tha count grew he slowed down, n' he fuckin started ta git shaky n' weepy; fo' he was leavin tha gin n juice further n' further behind, n' he was gettin afraid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Goblins might be about, n' he had lost his bangin rang fo' realz. At last he stopped by a low opening, on they left as they went up.

"Seven right, yes. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Six left, yes!" he whispered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "This is dat shit. This is tha way ta tha back-door, yes yo. Herez tha passage!"

Dude peered in, n' shrank back. "But our crazy-ass asses durstn't go in, precious, no our crazy-ass asses durstn't. Goblinses down there. Lotz of goblinses. Our thugged-out asses smells them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Ssss!" "What shall our crazy-ass asses do, biatch? Curse em n' crush them, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses must wait here, precious, wait a funky-ass bit n' see."

So they came ta a thugged-out dead stop. Gollum had brought Bilbo ta tha way up afta all yo, but Bilbo could not git in, muthafucka! There was Gollum chillin humped up muthafuckin right up in tha opening, n' his wild lil' fuckin eyes gleamed cold up in his head, as he swayed it from side ta side between his knees.

Bilbo crept away from tha wall mo' on tha fuckin' down-lowly than a mouse; but Gollum stiffened at once, n' sniffed, n' his wild lil' fuckin eyes went green. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude hissed softly but menacingly yo. Dude could not peep tha hobbit yo, but now he was on tha alert, n' he had other senses dat tha darknizz had sharpened: hearin n' smell yo. Dude seemed ta be crouched muthafuckin right down wit his wild lil' flat handz splayed on tha floor, n' his head thrust out, nozzle almost ta tha stone. Though he was only a funky-ass black shadow up in tha gleam of his own eyes, Bilbo could peep and feel dat he was tense as a funky-ass bowstring, gathered fo' a spring.

Bilbo almost stopped breathang, n' went stiff his dirty ass yo. Dude was desperate yo. Dude must git away, outta dis wack darkness, while he had any strength left yo. Dude must fight yo. Dude must stab tha foul thang, put its eyes out, bust a cap up in dat shit. It meant ta bust a cap up in his muthafuckin ass. Fuck dat shit, not a gangbangin' fair fight yo. Dude was invisible now, nahmeean, biatch? Gollum had no sword. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Gollum had not muthafuckin threatened ta bust a cap up in him, and tried ta yet fo' realz. And he was miserable, alone, lost fo' realz. A sudden understanding, a bitch ass muthafucka mixed wit horror, welled up up in Bilboz heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light and hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneakin n' whisperin fo' realz. All these thoughts passed up in a gangbangin' flash of a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude trembled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And then like suddenly up in another flash, as if lifted by a freshly smoked up strength n' resolve, he leaped.

No pimped out leap fo' a playa yo, but a leap up in tha dark. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Straight over Gollumz head he jumped, seven feet forward n' three up in tha air; indeed, had he known it, he only just missed crackin his skull on tha low arch of tha passage.

Gollum threw his dirty ass backwards, n' grabbed as tha hobbit flew over him,but too late: his handz snapped on thin air, n' Bilbo, fallin fair on his sturdy feet, sped off down tha freshly smoked up tunnel yo. Dude did not turn ta peep what tha fuck Gollum was bustin. There was a hissin n' cursin almost at his heels at first, then it stopped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All at once there came a funky-ass bloodcurdlin shriek, filled wit hatred n' despair. Gollum was defeated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude dared go no further yo. Dude had lost: lost his thugged-out lil' prey, n' lost, too, tha only muthafuckin thang he had eva cared for, his thugged-out lil' precious. Da cry brought Bilboz heart ta his crazy-ass grill yo, but still he held on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Now faint as a echo yo, but menacing, tha voice came behind:

"Thief, thief, thief, muthafucka! Baggins, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses hates it, our crazy-ass asses hates it, our crazy-ass asses hates it fo' ever!"

Then there was a silence. But dat too seemed menacin ta Bilbo. "If goblins is so near dat he smelt them," he thought, "then they'll have heard his shriekin n' cursing. Careful now, and dis way will lead you ta worse thangs."

Da passage was low n' roughly made. It was not too hard as fuck fo' tha hobbit, except when, up in spite of all care, he stubbed his skanky toes again, nuff muthafuckin times, on nasty jagged stones up in tha floor. "A bit low fo' goblins, at least fo' tha big-ass ones," thought Bilbo, not knowin dat even tha big-ass ones, tha orez of tha mountains, go along at a pimped out speed stoopin low wit they handz almost on tha ground.

Soon tha passage dat had been slopin down fuckin started ta go up again, n' afta a while it climbed steeply. That slowed Bilbo down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But at last tha slope stopped, tha passage turned a cold-ass lil corner, n' dipped down again, n' there, all up in tha bottom of a short incline, he saw, filterin round another corner-a glimpse of light. Not red light, az of fire and lantern yo, but a pale out-of-doors sort of light. Then Bilbo fuckin started ta run.

Scuttlin as fast as his fuckin legs would carry his ass he turned tha last corner n' came suddenly muthafuckin right tha fuck into a open space, where tha light, afta all dat time up in tha dark, seemed dazzlingly bright. Straight-Up it was only a leak of sunshine up in all up in a thugged-out doorway, where a pimped out door, a stone door, was left standin open.

Bilbo blinked, n' then suddenly he saw tha goblins: goblins up in full armour wit drawn slyrics chillin just inside tha door, n' watchin it wit wide eyes, n' watchin tha passage dat led ta dat shit. They was aroused, alert, locked n loaded fo' anythang.

They saw his ass sooner than he saw them. Yes, they saw his muthafuckin ass. Whether it was an accident, and a last trick of tha rang before it took a freshly smoked up master, it was not on his wild lil' finger. With yellz of delight tha goblins rushed upon his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. A pang of fear n' loss, like a echo of Gollumz misery, smote Bilbo, n' forgettin even ta draw his sword he struck his handz tha fuck into his thugged-out lil' pockets fo' realz. And - there was tha rang still, up in his fuckin left pocket, n' it slipped on his wild lil' finger. Da goblins stopped short. They could not peep a sign of his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude had vanished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They yelled twice as loud as before yo, but not so delightedly. "Where is it?" they cried.

"Go back up tha passage!" some shouted.

"This way!" some yelled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "That way!" others yelled.

"Look up fo' tha door," bellowed tha captain.

Whistlez blew, armour clashed, slyrics rattled, goblins cursed n' swore n' ran hither n' thither, fallin over one another n' gettin straight-up supa pissed. There was a terrible outcry, to-do, n' disturbizzle.

Bilbo was dreadfully frightened yo, but he had tha sense ta understand what tha fuck had happened n' ta sneak behind a funky-ass big-ass barrel which held drink fo' tha goblin-guards, n' so git outta tha way n' avoid bein bumped into, trampled ta dirtnap, and caught by feel.

"I must git ta tha door, I must git ta tha door!" he kept on sayin ta his dirty ass yo, but it was a long-ass time before he ventured ta try. Then it was like a wack game of blind-manz buff. Da place was full of goblins hustlin about, n' tha skanky lil hobbit dodged dis way n' that, was knocked over by a goblin whoz ass could not make up what tha fuck he had bumped into, scrambled away on all fours, slipped between tha legz of tha captain just up in time, gots up, n' ran fo' tha door.

It was still ajar yo, but a goblin had pushed it nearly to. Bilbo struggled but he could not move it yo. Dude tried ta squeeze all up in tha crack yo. Dude squeezed n' squeezed, n' he stuck, muthafucka! It was awful yo. His buttons had gots wedged on tha edge of tha door n' tha door-post yo. Dude could peep outside tha fuck into tha open air: there was a gangbangin' few steps hustlin down tha fuck into a narrow valley between tall mountains; tha sun came up from behind a cold-ass lil cloud n' shone bright on tha outside of tha door-but he could not git through.

Suddenly one of tha goblins inside shouted: "There be a shadow by tha door. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang is outside!"

Bilboz heart jumped tha fuck into his crazy-ass grill yo. Dude gave a terrific squirm. Buttons burst off up in all directions yo. Dude was through, wit a torn coat n' waistcoat, leapin down tha steps like a goat, while bewildered goblins was still pickin up his ill brass buttons on tha doorstep.

Of course they soon came down afta him, hootin n' hallooing, n' huntin among tha trees. But they don't like tha sun: it makes they legs wobble n' they headz giddy. They could not find Bilbo wit tha rang on, slippin up in n' outta tha shadow of tha trees, hustlin quick n' on tha fuckin' down-low, n' keepin outta tha sun; so soon they went back grumblin n' cursin ta guard tha door. Bilbo had escaped.


	6. Chapta 6 Out of tha Fryin' Pan

Bilbo had escaped tha goblins yo, but he did not know where he was yo. Dude had lost hood, cloak, chicken, pony, his buttons n' his wild lil' playaz yo. Dude wandered on n' on, till tha sun fuckin started ta sink westsidewards-behind tha mountains. Their shadows fell across Bilboz path, n' he looked back. Then he looked forward n' could peep before his ass only ridges n' slopes fallin towardz lowlandz n' plains glimpsed occasionally between tha trees.

"Dope heavens!" he exfronted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I seem ta have gots muthafuckin right ta tha other side of tha Misty Mountains, muthafuckin right ta tha edge of tha Land Beyond, muthafucka! Where n' O where can Gandalf n' tha dwarves have gots to, biatch? I only hope ta phatnizz they is not still back there up in tha juice of tha goblins!"

Dude still wandered on, outta tha lil high valley, over its edge, n' down tha slopes beyond; but all tha while a straight-up uncomfortable thought was growin inside his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude wondered whether he ought not, now he had tha magic ring, ta go back tha fuck into tha horrible, horrible, tunnels n' look fo' his wild lil' playaz yo. Dude had just done cooked up up his crazy-ass mind dat it was his fuckin lil' duty, dat he must turn back-and straight-up miserable he felt bout it-when he heard voices yo. Dude stopped n' listened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It did not sound like goblins; so he crept forward carefully yo. Dude was on a stony path windin downwardz wit a rocky wall. on tha left hand; on tha other side tha ground sloped away n' there was dells below tha level of tha path overhung wit bushes n' low trees. In one of these dells under tha bushes gangstas was rappin'.

Dude crept still nearer, n' suddenly he saw peerin between two big-ass bouldaz a head wit a red hood on: it was Balin bustin look-out yo. Dude could have clapped n' shouted fo' joy yo, but he did not yo. Dude had still gots tha rang on, fo' fear of meetin somethang unexpected n' unpleasant, n' he saw dat Balin was lookin straight at his ass without noticin his muthafuckin ass.

"I will give em all a surprise," he thought, as he crawled tha fuck into tha bushes all up in tha edge of tha dell. Gandalf was jumpin off bout some shiznit wit tha dwarves. They was discussin all dat had happened ta em up in tha tunnels, n' wonderin n' debatin what tha fuck they was ta do now, nahmeean, biatch? Da dwarves was grumbling, n' Gandalf was sayin dat they could not possibly go on wit they journey leavin Mista Muthafuckin Baggins up in tha handz of tha goblins, without tryin ta smoke up if he was kickin it and dead, n' without tryin ta rescue his muthafuckin ass.

"After all he is mah playa," holla'd tha wizzle, "and not a funky-ass bad lil chap. I feel responsible fo' his muthafuckin ass. I wish ta phatnizz you had not lost his muthafuckin ass."

Da dwarves wanted ta know why he had eva been brought at all, why he could not stick ta his wild lil' playaz n' come along wit them, n' why tha wizzle had not chosen some muthafucka wit mo' sense. "Dude has been mo' shizzle than bust so far," holla'd one. "If our crazy-ass asses have gots to' go back now tha fuck into em abominable tunnels ta look fo' him, then drat him, I say."

Gandalf answered angrily: "I brought him, n' I don't brang thangs dat iz of no use. Either you help mah crazy ass ta look fo' him, and I go n' leave you here ta git outta tha mess as dopest you can yourselves. If our crazy-ass asses can only find his ass again, yo big-ass booty is ghon give props ta mah crazy ass before all is over. Whatever did you wanna go n' drop his ass for, Dori?"

"Yo ass would have dropped him," holla'd Dori, "if a goblin had suddenly grabbed yo' leg from behind up in tha dark, tripped up yo' feet, n' kicked you up in tha back!"

"Then why didn't you pick his ass up again?"

"Dope heavens, muthafucka! Can you ask, muthafucka! Goblins fightin n' bitin up in tha dark, all y'all fallin over bodies n' hittin one another, muthafucka! Yo ass nearly chopped off mah head wit Glamdring, n' Thorin Was stabbin here there n' everywhere wit Orcrist fo' realz. All of a sudden you gave one of yo' blindin flashes, n' our crazy-ass asses saw tha goblins hustlin back yelping. Yo ass shouted 'follow mah crazy ass all y'all!' n' all y'all ought ta have followed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses thought all y'all had. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There was no time ta count, as you know like well, till our crazy-ass asses had dashed all up in tha gate-guards, outta tha lower door, n' helter-skelter down here fo' realz. And here our crazy-ass asses are-without tha burglar, confusticate him!"

"And herez tha burglar!" holla'd Bilbo steppin down tha fuck into tha middle of them, n' slippin off tha ring.

Bless me, how tha fuck they jumped, muthafucka! Then they shouted wit surprise n' delight. Gandalf was as astonished as any of em yo, but probably mo' pleased than all tha others yo. Dude called ta Balin n' busted some lyrics ta his ass what tha fuck he thought of a look-out playa whoz ass let gangstas strutt muthafuckin right tha fuck into em like dat without warning. It be a gangbangin' fact dat Bilboz hype went up a straight-up pimped out deal wit tha dwarves afta this. If they had still doubted dat he was straight-up a gangbangin' first-class burglar, up in spite of Gandalfz lyrics, they doubted no longer. Balin was da most thugged-out puzzled of all; but everyone holla'd it was a straight-up smart-ass bit of work.

Indeed Bilbo was so pleased wit they praise dat he just chuckled inside n' holla'd not a god damn thang whatever bout tha ring; n' when they axed his ass how tha fuck he did it, he holla'd: "O, just crept along, you know-very carefully n' on tha fuckin' down-lowly."

"Well, it is tha straight-up original gangsta time dat even a mouse has crept along carefully n' on tha fuckin' down-lowly under mah straight-up nozzle n' not been spotted," holla'd Balin, "and I take off mah hood ta yo thugged-out ass." Which he did.

"Balin at yo' service," holla'd he.

"Yo Crazy-Ass servant, Mista Muthafuckin Baggins," holla'd Bilbo.

Then they wanted ta know all bout his thugged-out adventures afta they had lost him, n' he sat down n' busted some lyrics ta em everythang-except bout tha findin of tha rang ("not just now" he thought). They was particularly horny bout tha riddle-competition, n' shuddered most appreciatively at his fuckin lil' description of Gollum.

"And then I couldn't be thinkin of any other question wit his ass chillin beside me," ended Bilbo; "so I holla'd 'whatz up in mah pocket?' And he couldn't guess up in three goes. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I holla'd: 'what bout yo' promise, biatch? Show mah crazy ass tha way out!' But he came at mah crazy ass ta bust a cap up in me, n' I ran, n' fell over, n' he missed mah crazy ass up in tha dark. Then I followed him, cuz I heard his ass rappin' ta his dirty ass yo. Dude thought I straight-up knew tha way out, n' so he was bustin fo' it fo' realz. And then he sat down up in tha entrizzle, n' I could not git by. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I jumped over his ass n' escaped, n' ran down ta tha gate."

"What bout guards?" they axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Weren't there any?" "O yes, muthafucka! fuckin shitloadz of them; but I dodged 'em. I gots stuck up in tha door, which was only open a cold-ass lil crack, n' I lost fuckin shitloadz of buttons," he holla'd sadly lookin at his cold-ass torn clothes. "But I squeezed all up in all right-and here I am."

Da dwarves looked at his ass wit like a freshly smoked up respect, when he talked bout dodgin guards, jumpin over Gollum, n' squeezin through, as if it was not straight-up hard as fuck and straight-up alarming.

"What did I tell yo slick ass?" holla'd Gandalf laughing. "Mista Muthafuckin Baggins has mo' bout his ass than you guess." Dude gave Bilbo a queer look from under his bushy eyebrows, as he holla'd this, n' tha hobbit wondered if he guessed all up in tha part of his cold-ass tale dat he had left out.

Then he had thangz of his own ta ask, fo' if Gandalf had explained it all by now ta tha dwarves, Bilbo had not heard it yo. Dude wanted ta know how tha fuck tha wizzle had turned up again, n' where they had all gots ta now, nahmeean, biatch? Da wizzle, ta tell tha truth, never minded explainin his defnizz mo' than once, so now he had busted some lyrics ta Bilbo dat both he n' Elrond had been well aware of tha presence of evil goblins up in dat part of tha mountains. But they main gate used ta come up on a thugged-out different pass, one mo' easy as fuck ta travel by, so dat they often caught gangstas benighted near they gates. Evidently gangstas had given up goin dat way, n' tha goblins must have opened they freshly smoked up entrizzle all up in tha top of tha pass tha dwarves had taken, like recently, cuz it had been found like safe up ta now, nahmeean?

"I must peep if I can't find a mo' and less decent giant ta block it up again," holla'd Gandalf, "or soon there is ghon be no gettin over tha mountains at all."

As soon as Gandalf had heard Bilboz yell he realized what tha fuck had happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In tha flash which capped tha goblins dat was grabbin his ass he had nipped inside tha crack, just as it snapped ta yo. Dude followed afta tha drivers n' prisoners muthafuckin right ta tha edge of tha pimped out hall, n' there he sat down n' hit dat shizzle up tha dopest magic he could up in tha shadows.

"A straight-up ticklish bidnizz, it was," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Touch n' go!" But, of course, Gandalf had done cooked up a special study of bewitchments wit fire n' lights (even tha hobbit had never forgotten tha magic fireworks at Oldskool Tookz midsummer-eve parties, as you remember). Da rest our crazy-ass asses all know - except dat Gandalf knew all bout tha back-door, as tha goblins called tha lower gate, where Bilbo lost his buttons fo' realz. As a matter of fact it was well known ta anybody whoz ass was acquainted wit dis part of tha mountains; but it took a wizzle ta keep his head up in tha tunnels n' guide em up in tha muthafuckin right direction.

"They done cooked up dat gate ages ago," he holla'd, "kinda fo' a way of escape, if they needed one; kinda as a way up tha fuck into tha landz beyond, where they still come up in tha dark n' do pimped out damage. They guard it always n' no one has eva managed ta block it up. They will guard it doubly afta this," he laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All tha others laughed too fo' realz. After all they had lost a phat deal yo, but they had capped tha Great Goblin n' a pimped out nuff others besides, n' they had all escaped, so they might be holla'd ta have had tha dopest of it so far. But tha wizzle called em ta they senses. "Our thugged-out asses must be gettin on at once, now our crazy-ass asses is a lil rested," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "They is ghon be up afta our asses up in hundredz when night comes on; n' already shadows is lengthening. They can smell our footsteps fo' hours n' hours afta our crazy-ass asses have passed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses must be milez on before dusk. There is ghon be a funky-ass bit of moon, if it keeps fine, n' dat is lucky. Not dat they mind tha moon much yo, but it will give our asses a lil light ta steer by."

"O yes!" he holla'd up in answer ta mo' thangs from tha hobbit. "Yo ass lose track of time inside goblin-tunnels. Todayz Thursday, n' it was Mondizzle night and Tuesdizzle mornin dat our crazy-ass asses was captured. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses have gone milez n' miles, n' come muthafuckin right down all up in tha heart of tha mountains, n' is now on tha other side-like a short cut. But our crazy-ass asses is not all up in tha point ta which our pass would have brought us; our crazy-ass asses is too far ta tha North, n' have some awkward ghetto ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And our crazy-ass asses is still pretty high up. Letz git on!"

"I be so dreadfully hungry," groaned Bilbo, whoz ass was suddenly aware dat he had not had a meal since tha night before tha night before last. Just be thinkin of dat fo' a hobbit, muthafucka! His stomach felt all empty n' loose n' his fuckin legs all wobbly, now dat tha excitement was over.

"Can't help it," holla'd Gandalf, "unless you like ta go back n' ask tha goblins nicely ta let you have yo' pony back n' yo' luggage." "No fuck you!" holla'd Bilbo.

"Straight-up well then, our crazy-ass asses must just tighten our belts n' trudge on - and our crazy-ass asses shall be done cooked up tha fuck into supper, n' dat is ghon be much worse than havin none ourselves."

As they went on Bilbo looked from side ta side fo' somethang ta eat; but tha blackberries was still only up in flower, n' of course there was no nuts, nor even hawthorn-berries yo. Dude nibbled a funky-ass bit of sorrel, n' he drank from a lil' small-ass mountain-stream dat crossed tha path, n' he ate three wild strawberries dat he found on its bank yo, but it was not much phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They still went on n' on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da rough path disrocked up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da bushes, n' tha long grasses, between tha boulders, tha patchez of rabbit-cropped turf, tha thyme n' tha sage n' tha marjoram, n' tha yellow rockroses all vanished, n' they found themselves all up in tha top of a wide steep slope of fallen stones, tha remainz of a landslide.

When they fuckin started ta go down this, rubbish n' lil' small-ass pebblez rolled away from they feet; soon larger bitz of split stone went clatterin down n' started other pieces below em slitherin n' rolling; then lumpz of rocks was disturbed n' bounded off, crashin down wit a thugged-out dust n' a noise. Before long tha whole slope above em n' below em seemed on tha move, n' they was slidin away, huddled all together, up in a gangbangin' fearful confusion of slipping, rattling, crackin slabs n' stones. It was tha trees all up in tha bottom dat saved them. They slid tha fuck into tha edge of a cold-ass lil climbin wood of pines dat here stood muthafuckin right up tha mountain slope from tha deeper darker forestz of tha valleys below. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some caught hold of tha trunks n' swung themselves tha fuck into lower branches, some (like tha lil hobbit) gots behind a tree ta shelter from tha onslaught of tha rocks. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon tha danger was over, tha slide had stopped, n' tha last faint crashes could be heard as tha phattest of tha disturbed stones went boundin n' spinnin among tha bracken n' tha pine-roots far below.

"Well, muthafucka! dat has gots our asses on a funky-ass bit," holla'd Gandalf; "and even goblins trackin our asses will gots a thang ta come down here on tha fuckin' down-lowly." "I daresay," grumbled Bombur; "but they won't find it hard as fuck ta bust stones bouncin down on our heads." Da dwarves (and Bilbo) was feelin far from aiiight, n' was rubbin they bruised n' damaged legs n' feet. "Nonsense, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses is goin ta turn aside here outta tha path of tha slide. Our thugged-out asses must be quick, muthafucka! Look all up in tha light!" Da sun had long gone behind tha mountains fo' realz. Already tha shadows was deepenin bout them, though far away all up in tha trees n' over tha black topz of em growin lower down they could still peep tha evenin lights on tha plains beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They limped along now as fast as they was able down tha gentle slopez of a pine forest up in a slantin path leadin steadily southwardz fo' realz. At times they was pushin all up in a sea of bracken wit tall frondz risin muthafuckin right above tha hobbitz head; at times they was marchin along on tha down-low as on tha down-low over a gangbangin' floor of pine-needles; n' all tha while tha forest-gloom gots heavier n' tha forest-silence deeper. There was no wind dat evenin ta brang even a sea-sighin tha fuck into tha branchez of tha trees.

"Must our crazy-ass asses go any further?" axed Bilbo, when it was so dark dat he could only just peep Thorinz beard waggin beside him, n' so on tha down-low dat he could hear tha dwarves' breathang like a loud noise. "My fuckin toes is all bruised n' bent, n' mah legs ache, n' mah stomach is waggin like a empty sack." "A bit further," holla'd Gandalf.

After what tha fuck seemed ages further they came suddenly ta a openin where no trees grew. Da moon was up n' was shinin tha fuck into tha clearing. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somehow it struck all of em as not at all a ill place, although there was not a god damn thang wrong ta see.

All of a sudden they heard a howl away down hill, a long-ass shudderin howl. It was answered by another away ta tha muthafuckin right n' a phat deal nearer ta them, then by another not far away ta tha left. It was wolves howlin all up in tha moon,wolves gatherin together!

There was no wolves livin near Mista Muthafuckin Baggins' hole up in da crib yo, but he knew dat noise yo. Dude had had it busted lyrics bout ta his ass often enough up in tales. One of his wild lil' fuckin elder cousins (on tha Took side), whoz ass had been a pimped out traveller, used ta imitate it ta frighten his muthafuckin ass. To hear it up up in tha forest under tha moon was too much fo' Bilbo. Even magic rings is not much bust against wolves-especially against tha evil packs dat lived under tha shadow of tha goblin-infested mountains, over tha Edge of tha Wild on tha bordaz of tha unknown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Wolvez of dat sort smell keener than goblins, n' do not need ta peep you ta catch you!

"What shall our crazy-ass asses do, what tha fuck shall our crazy-ass asses do!" he cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Escapin goblins ta be caught by wolves!" he holla'd, n' it became a proverb, though our crazy-ass asses now say 'out of tha frying-pan tha fuck into tha fire' up in tha same stupid-ass sort of uncomfortable situations. "Up tha trees quick!" cried Gandalf; n' they ran ta tha trees all up in tha edge of tha glade, huntin fo' em dat had branches fairly low, and was slender enough ta swarm up. They found em as quick as eva they could, you can guess; n' up they went as high as eva they could trust tha branches. Yo ass would have laughed (from a safe distizzle), if you had peeped tha dwarves chillin up up in tha trees wit they beardz danglin down, like oldschool gentlemen gone cracked n' playin at bein boys. Fili n' Kili was all up in tha top of a tall larch like a enormous Chrizzle tree. Dori, Nori, On, Oin, n' Gloin was mo' laid back up in a big-ass pine wit regular branches stickin up at intervals like tha spokez of a wheel. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, n' Thorin was up in another. Dwalin n' Balin had swarmed up a tall slender fir wit few branches n' was tryin ta find a place ta sit up in tha greenery of tha topmost boughs. Gandalf, whoz ass was a phat deal talla than tha others, had found a tree tha fuck into which they could not climb, a big-ass pine standin all up in tha straight-up edge of tha glade yo. Dude was like hidden up in its boughs yo, but you could peep his wild lil' fuckin eyes gleamin up in tha moon as he peeped out.

And Bilbo, biatch? Dude could not git tha fuck into any tree, n' was scuttlin bout from trunk ta trunk, like a rabbit dat has lost its hole n' has a thugged-out dawg afta dat shit. "You've left tha burglar behind again}" holla'd Nori ta Dori lookin down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "I can't be always carryin burglars on mah back," holla'd Dori, "down tunnels n' up trees, muthafucka! What do you be thinkin I am, biatch? A porter?" "Dude bout ta be smoked if our crazy-ass asses don't 'do somethang," holla'd Thorin, fo' there was howls all around em now, gettin nearer n' nearer. "Dori!" he called, fo' Dori was lowest down up in tha easiest tree, "be quick, n' give Mista Muthafuckin Baggins a hand up!"

Dori was straight-up a thugged-out decent fellow up in spite of his stupid-ass grumbling. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Skanky Bilbo could not reach his hand even when he climbed down ta tha bottom branch n' hung his thugged-out arm down as far as eva he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So Dori muthafuckin climbed outta tha tree n' let Bilbo scramble up n' stand on his back. Just at dat moment tha wolves trotted howlin tha fuck into tha clearin fo' realz. All of a sudden there was hundredz of eyes lookin at them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still Dori did not let Bilbo down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude waited till he had clambered off his shouldaz tha fuck into tha branches, n' then he jumped fo' tha branches his dirty ass. Only just up in time, muthafucka! A wolf snapped - at his cloak as he swung up, n' nearly gots his muthafuckin ass. In a minute there was a whole pack of em yelpin all round tha tree n' leapin up all up in tha trunk, wit eyes blazin n' tongues hangin out. But even tha wild Wargs (for so tha evil wolves over tha Edge of tha Wild was named) cannot climb trees. For a time they was safe. 'Luckily it was warm n' not windy. Trees is not straight-up laid back ta sit up in fo' long at any time; but up in tha cold n' tha wind, wit wolves all round below waitin fo' you, they can be perfectly miserable places.

This glade up in tha rang of trees was evidently a meeting-place of tha wolves. Mo' n' mo' kept comin in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They left guardz all up in tha foot of tha tree up in which Dori n' Bilbo were, n' then went snifflin bout till they had smelt up every last muthafuckin tree dat had every last muthafuckin muthafucka up in dat shit. These they guarded too, while all tha rest (hundredz n' hundredz it seemed) went n' sat up in a pimped out circle up in tha glade; n' up in tha middle of tha circle was a pimped out grey wolf yo. Dude was rappin ta em up in tha dreadful language of tha Wargs. Gandalf understood dat shit. Bilbo did not yo, but it sounded terrible ta him, n' as if all they rap was bout wack n' wicked thangs, as it was. Every now n' then all tha Wargs up in tha circle would answer they grey chizzle all together, n' they dreadful clamour almost done cooked up tha hobbit fall outta his thugged-out lil' pine-tree.

I will rap what tha fuck Gandalf heard, though Bilbo did not understand dat shit. Da Wargs n' tha goblins often helped one another up in wicked deeds. Goblins do not probably venture straight-up far from they mountains, unless they is driven up n' is lookin fo' freshly smoked up cribs, and is marchin ta war (which I be glad ta say has not happened fo' a long-ass while). But up in em days they sometimes used ta go on raids, especially ta git chicken and slaves ta work fo' them. Then they often gots tha Wargs ta help n' shared tha plunder wit them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes they rode on wolves like pimps do on horses. Now it seemed dat a pimped out goblin-raid had been planned fo' dat straight-up night. Da Wargs had come ta hook up tha goblins n' tha goblins was late. Da reason, no diggity, was tha dirtnap of tha Great Goblin, n' all tha excitement caused by tha dwarves n' Bilbo n' tha wizzle, fo' whom they was probably still hunting.

In spite of tha dangerz of dis far land bold pimps had of late been bustin they way back tha fuck into it from tha South, cuttin down trees, n' buildin themselves places ta live up in among tha mo' pleasant woodz up in tha valleys n' along tha river-shores. There was nuff of them, n' they was brave n' well-armed, n' even tha Wargs dared not battle em if there was nuff together, and up in tha bright day. But now they had planned wit tha goblins' help ta come by night upon a shitload of tha hoodz nearest tha mountains. If they plan had been carried out, there would done been none left there next day; all would done been capped except tha few tha goblins kept from tha wolves n' carried back as prisoners ta they caves.

This was dreadful rap ta dig, not only cuz of tha brave woodmen n' they wives n' lil pimps yo, but also cuz of tha danger which now threatened Gandalf n' his wild lil' playas. Da Wargs was supa pissed n' puzzled at findin em here up in they straight-up meeting-place. They thought they was playaz of tha woodmen, n' was come ta spy on them, n' would take shizzle of they plans down tha fuck into tha valleys, n' then tha goblins n' tha wolves would have ta fight a terrible battle instead of capturin prisoners n' devourin gangstas waked suddenly from they chill. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So tha Wargs had no intention of goin away n' lettin tha gangstas up tha trees escape, at any rate not until mornin fo' realz. And long before that, they holla'd, goblin soldiers would be comin down from tha mountains; n' goblins can climb trees, and cut em down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Now you can understand why Gandalf, listenin ta they growlin n' yelping, fuckin started ta be dreadfully afraid, wizzle though he was, n' ta feel dat they was up in a straight-up bad place, n' had not yet escaped at all fo' realz. All tha same stupid-ass he was not goin ta let em have it all they own way, though he could not do straight-up much stuck up up in a tall tree wit wolves all round on tha ground below yo. Dude gathered tha big-ass pinecones from tha branchez of his cold-ass tree. Then he set one alight wit bright blue fire, n' threw it whizzin down among tha circle of tha wolves. It struck one on tha back, n' immediately his shaggy coat caught fire, n' he was leapin ta n' fro yelpin horribly. Then another came n' another, one up in blue flames, one up in red, another up in green. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They burst on tha ground up in tha middle of tha circle n' went off up in coloured sparks n' smoke fo' realz. A specially big-ass one hit tha chizzle wolf on tha nose, n' he leaped up in tha air ten feet, n' then rushed round n' round tha circle bitin n' snappin even all up in tha other wolves up in his thugged-out anger n' fright.

Da dwarves n' Bilbo shouted n' cheered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da rage of tha wolves was terrible ta see, n' tha commotion they done cooked up filled all tha forest. Wolves is afraid of fire at all times yo, but dis was a most wack n' uncanny fire. If a spark gots up in they coats it stuck n' burned tha fuck into them, n' unless they rolled over quick they was soon all up in flames. Straight-up soon all bout tha glade wolves was rollin over n' over ta put up tha sparks on they backs, while em dat was burnin was hustlin bout howlin n' settin others alight, till they own playaz chased em away n' they fled off down tha slopes bustin up like a biatch n' yammerin n' lookin fo' water.

"Whatz all dis uproar up in tha forest tonight?" holla'd tha Lord of tha Eaglez yo. Dude was chillin, black up in tha moonlight, on tha top of a lonely pinnacle of rock all up in tha eastsideern edge of tha mountains. "I hear wolves' voices, muthafucka! Is tha goblins at mischizzle up in tha woods?"

Dude swept up tha fuck into tha air, n' immediately two of his stupid-ass guardz from tha rocks at either hand leaped up ta follow his muthafuckin ass. They circled up up in tha sky n' looked down upon tha rang of tha Wargs, a tiny spot far far below. But eaglez have keen eyes n' can peep lil' small-ass thangs at a pimped out distizzle. Da lord of tha eaglez of tha Misty Mountains had eyes dat could peep tha sun unblinking, n' could peep a rabbit movin on tha ground a mile below even up in tha moonlight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So though he could not peep tha gangstas up in tha trees, he could make up tha commotion among tha wolves n' peep tha tiny flashez of fire, n' hear tha howlin n' yelpin come up faint from far beneath his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. Also he could peep tha glint of tha moon on goblin spears n' helmets, as long linez of tha wicked folk crept down tha hillsides from they gate n' wound tha fuck into tha wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Eaglez is not kindly birds. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some is cowardly n' wack. But tha ancient race of tha northern mountains was tha top billin of all birds; they was proud as a muthafucka n' phat n' noble-hearted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They did not ludd goblins, and fear them. When they took any notice of em at all (which was seldom, fo' they did not smoke such creatures ), they swooped on em n' drove em shriekin back ta they caves, n' stopped whatever wickednizz they was bustin. Da goblins hated tha eaglez n' feared em yo, but could not reach they lofty seats, and drive em from tha mountains.

Tonight tha Lord of tha Eaglez was filled wit curiositizzle ta know what tha fuck was afoot; so he summoned nuff other eaglez ta him, n' they flew away from tha mountains, n' slowly circlin eva round n' round they came down, down, down towardz tha rang of tha wolves n' tha meeting-place of tha goblins fo' realz. A straight-up phat muthafuckin thang too, muthafucka! Dreadful thangs had been goin on down there. Da wolves dat had caught fire n' fled tha fuck into tha forest had set it alight up in nuff muthafuckin places. It was high summer, n' on dis eastsideern side of tha mountains there had been lil rizla fo' some time. Yellowin bracken, fallen branches, deep-piled pine-needles, n' here n' there dead trees, was soon up in flames fo' realz. All round tha clearin of tha Wargs fire was leaping. But tha wolf-guardz did not leave tha trees. Maddened n' supa pissed they was leapin n' howlin round tha trunks, n' cursin tha dwarves up in they wack language, wit they tongues hangin out, n' they eyes shinin as red n' fierce as tha flames.

Then suddenly goblins came hustlin up yelling. They thought a funky-ass battle wit tha woodmen was goin on; but they goon hustled what tha fuck had straight-up happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Some of em muthafuckin sat down n' laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Others waved they spears n' clashed tha shafts against they shields. Goblins is not afraid of fire, n' they soon had a plan which seemed ta em most amusing. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some gots all tha wolves together up in a pack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some stacked fern n' brushwood round tha tree-trunks. Others rushed round n' stamped n' beat, n' beat n' stamped, until nearly all tha flames was put out-but they did not put up tha fire nearest ta tha trees where tha dwarves were. That fire they fed wit leaves n' dead branches n' bracken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they had a rang of smoke n' flame all round tha dwarves, a rang which they kept from spreadin outwards; but it closed slowly in, till tha hustlin fire was lickin tha gin n juice piled under tha trees. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Smoke was up in Bilboz eyes, he could feel tha heat of tha flames; n' all up in tha reek he could peep tha goblins ridin' dirty round n' round up in a cold-ass lil circle like gangstas round a midsummer bonfire. Outside tha rang of ridin' dirty warriors wit spears n' axes stood tha wolves at a respectful distizzle, watchin n' waiting.

Dude could hear tha goblins beginnin a wack song:

"Fifteen birdz up in five firtrees, they feathers was fanned up in a gangbangin' fiery breeze!

But, funny lil birds, they had no wings!

O what tha fuck shall our crazy-ass asses do wit tha funny lil thangs?

Roast 'em kickin it, and stew em up in a pot,fry them, boil em n' smoke em hot?"

Then they stopped n' shouted out: "Fly away lil birds, muthafucka! Fly away if you can, muthafucka! Come down lil birds, and yo big-ass booty is ghon git roasted up in yo' nests, muthafucka! Bust a rap, rap lil birds, muthafucka! Why don't you sing?"

"Go away, muthafucka! lil boys!" shouted Gandalf up in answer. "It aint bird-nestin time fo' realz. Also naughty lil boys dat play wit fire git punished." Dude holla'd it ta make em supa pissed, n' ta sheezy em he was not frightened of them-though of course he was, wizzle though he was. But they took no notice, n' they went on rappin.

"Burn, burn tree n' fern!

Shrivel n' scorch, muthafucka! A fizzlin torch

To light tha night fo' our delight,

Ya hey!

Bake n' toast 'em, fry n' roast 'em

till beardz blaze, n' eyes glaze;

till afro smells n' skins crack,

fat melts, n' bones black

in cindaz lie

beneath tha sky!

So dwarves shall die,

and light tha night fo' our delight,

Ya hey!

Ya-harri-heyl

Ya hoy!"

And wit dat Ya hoy, muthafucka! tha flames was under Gandalfz tree. In a moment it spread ta tha others. Da bark caught fire, tha lower branches cracked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then Gandalf climbed ta tha top of his cold-ass tree. Da sudden splendour flashed from his wand like lightning, as he gots locked n loaded ta sprin down from on high muthafuckin right among tha spearz of tha goblins. That would done been tha end of him, though he would probably have capped nuff of em as he came hurtlin down like a thunderbolt. But he never leaped.

Just at dat moment tha Lord of tha Eaglez swept down from above, seized his ass up in his cold-ass talons, n' was gone.

There was a howl of anger n' surprise from tha goblins. Loud cried tha Lord of tha Eagles, ta whom Gandalf had now spoken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Back swept tha pimped out birdz dat was wit him, n' down they came like big-ass black shadows. Da wolves yammered n' gnashed they teeth; tha goblins yelled n' stamped wit rage, n' flung they heavy spears up in tha air up in vain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Over em swooped tha eagles; tha dark rush of they beatin wings smote em ta tha floor and drove em far away; they talons tore at goblin faces. Other birdz flew ta tha tree-tops n' seized tha dwarves, whoz ass was scramblin up now as far as eva they dared ta go.

Skanky lil Bilbo was straight-up nearly left behind again, muthafucka! Dude just managed ta catch hold of Doriz legs, as Dori was borne off last of all; n' they went together above tha tumult n' tha burning, Bilbo swingin up in tha air wit his thugged-out arms nearly breaking.

Now far below tha goblins n' tha wolves was scatterin far n' wide up in tha woodz fo' realz. A few eaglez was still circlin n' sweepin above tha battle-ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da flames bout tha trees sprang suddenly up above tha highest branches. They went up up in cracklin fire. There was a sudden flurry of sparks n' smoke. Bilbo had escaped only just up in time!

Soon tha light of tha burnin was faint below, a red twinkle on tha black floor; n' they was high up up in tha sky, risin all tha time up in phat sweepin circles. Bilbo never forgot dat flight, clingin onto Doriz ankles.

Dude moaned "my arms, mah arms!"; but Dori groaned "my skanky legs, mah skanky legs!" At tha dopest of times heights done cooked up Bilbo giddy yo. Dude used ta turn queer if he looked over tha edge of like a lil cliff; n' he had never dug ladders, let alone trees (never havin had ta escape from wolves before). Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you can imagine how tha fuck his head swam now, when he looked down between his fuckin lil' danglin toes n' saw tha dark landz openin wide underneath him, touched here n' there wit tha light of tha moon on a hill-side rock and a stream up in tha plains.

Da pale peakz of tha mountains was comin nearer, moonlit spikez of rock stickin outta black shadows. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Summer and not, it seemed straight-up cold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude shut his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' wondered if he could hold on any longer. Then he imagined what tha fuck would happen if he did not yo. Dude felt sick. Da flight ended only just up in time fo' him, just before his thugged-out arms gave way yo. Dude loosed Doriz anklez wit a gasp n' fell onto tha rough platform of a eaglez eyrie. There he lay without bustin lyrics, n' his cold-ass thoughts was a mixture of surprise at bein saved from tha fire, n' fear lest he fell off dat narrow place tha fuck into tha deep shadows on either side yo. Dude was feelin straight-up queer indeed up in his head by dis time afta tha dreadful adventurez of tha last three days wit next ta not a god damn thang ta eat, n' he found his dirty ass sayin aloud: "Now I know what tha fuck a piece of bacon feels like when it is suddenly picked outta tha pan on a gangbangin' fork n' put back on tha shelf!"

"No you don't!" be heard Dori answering, "cuz tha bacon knows dat it will git back up in tha pan sooner and later; n' it is ta be hoped our crazy-ass asses shan't fo' realz. Also eaglez aren't forks!"

"O no, muthafucka! Not a funky-ass bit like storks-forks, I mean," holla'd Bilbo chillin up n' lookin anxiously all up in tha eagle whoz ass was perched close by yo. Dude wondered what tha fuck other nonsense he had been saying, n' if tha eagle would be thinkin it rude. Yo ass ought not ta be rude ta a eagle, when yo ass is only tha size of a hobbit, n' is up up in his wild lil' fuckin eyrie at night!

Da eagle only sharpened his beak on a stone n' trimmed his wild lil' feathers n' took no notice. Soon another eagle flew up. "Da Lord of tha Eaglez bidz you ta brang yo' prisoners ta tha Great Shelf," he cried n' was off again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da other seized Dori up in his claws n' flew away wit his ass tha fuck into tha night leavin Bilbo all alone yo. Dude had just strength ta wonder what tha fuck tha messenger had meant by 'prisoners,' n' ta begin ta be thinkin of bein torn up fo' supper like a rabbit, when his own turn came. Da eagle came back, seized his ass up in his cold-ass talons by tha back of his coat, n' swooped off. This time he flew only a short way. Straight-up soon Bilbo was laid down, tremblin wit fear, on a wide shelf of rock on tha mountain-side. There was no path down on ta it save by flying; n' no path down off it except by jumpin over a precipice. There he found all tha others chillin wit they backs ta tha mountain wall. Da Lord of tha Eaglez also was there n' was bustin lyrics ta Gandalf.

It seemed dat Bilbo was not goin ta be smoked afta all. Da wizzle n' tha eagle-lord rocked up ta know one another slightly, n' even ta be on thugged-out terms fo' realz. As a matter of fact Gandalf, whoz ass had often been up in tha mountains, had once rendered a steez ta tha eaglez n' healed they lord from a arrow-wound. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So you peep 'prisoners' had meant 'prisoners rescued from tha goblins' only, n' not captivez of tha eaglez fo' realz. As Bilbo listened ta tha rap of Gandalf he realized dat at last they was goin ta escape straight-up n' truly from tha dreadful mountains yo. Dude was discussin plans wit tha Great Eagle fo' carryin tha dwarves n' his dirty ass n' Bilbo far away n' settin em down well on they journey across tha plains below.

Da Lord of tha Eaglez would not take em anywhere near where pimps lived. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "They would blast at our asses wit they pimped out bowz of yew," he holla'd, "for they would be thinkin our crazy-ass asses was afta they sheep fo' realz. And at other times they would be right. No, muthafucka! our crazy-ass asses is glad ta cheat tha goblinz of they sport, n' glad ta repay our props ta you yo, but our crazy-ass asses aint gonna risk ourselves fo' dwarves up in tha southward plains."

"Straight-up well," holla'd Gandalf. "Take our asses where n' as far as you will, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses is already deeply obliged ta yo thugged-out ass. But up in tha meantime our crazy-ass asses is famished wit hunger."

"I be nearly dead of it," holla'd Bilbo up in a weak lil voice dat no muthafucka heard.

"That can like be mended," holla'd tha Lord of tha Eagles. Later on you might have peeped a funky-ass bright fire on tha shelf of rock n' tha figurez of tha dwarves round it cookin n' bustin a gangbangin' fine roastin smell. Da eaglez had brought up dry boughs fo' fuel, n' they had brought rabbits, hares, n' a lil' small-ass sheep. Da dwarves managed all tha preparations. Bilbo was too weak ta help, n' anyway he was not much phat at skinnin rabbits and cuttin up meat, bein used ta havin it served up by tha butcher all locked n loaded ta cook. Gandalf, too, was lyin down afta bustin his thugged-out lil' part up in settin tha fire going, since Oin n' Gloin had lost they tinder-boxes. (Dwarves have never taken ta matches even yet.)

So ended tha adventurez of tha Misty Mountains. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon Bilboz stomach was feelin full n' laid back again, n' he felt he could chill contentedly, though straight-up he would have dug a loaf n' butter mo' betta than bitz of meat toasted on sticks yo. Dude slept curled up on tha hard rock mo' soundly than eva he had done on his wild lil' feather-bed up in his own lil hole at home. But all night he dreamed of his own doggy den n' wandered up in his chill tha fuck into all his fuckin lil' different rooms lookin fo' somethang dat he could not find nor remember what tha fuck it looked like.


	7. Chapta 7 Queer Lodgin'

Da next mornin Bilbo raised up wit tha early sun up in his wild lil' fuckin eyes yo. Dude jumped up ta peep tha time n' ta go n' put his kettle on-and found he was not home at all. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So he sat down n' wished up in vain fo' a wash n' a funky-ass brush yo. Dude did not git either, nor tea nor toast nor bacon fo' his breakfast, only cold mutton n' rabbit fo' realz. And afta dat he had ta git locked n loaded fo' a gangbangin' fresh start. This time he was allowed ta climb on ta a eaglez back n' clin between his wings. Da air rushed over his ass n' he shut his wild lil' fuckin eyes. Da dwarves was bustin up like a biatch farewells n' promisin ta repay tha lord of tha eaglez if eva they could, as off rose fifteen pimped out birdz from tha mountainz side. Da sun was still close ta tha eastsideern edge of thangs. Da mornin was def, n' mists was up in tha valleys n' hollows n' twined here n' there bout tha peaks n' pinnaclez of tha hills. Bilbo opened a eye ta peep n' saw dat tha birdz was already high up n' tha ghetto was far away, n' tha mountains was fallin back behind em tha fuck into tha distizzle yo. Dude shut his wild lil' fuckin eyes again n' held on tighter.

"Don't pinch!" holla'd his wild lil' fuckin eagle. "Yo ass need not be frightened like a rabbit, even if you look rather like one. It be a gangbangin' fair mornin wit lil wind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What tha fuck iz finer than flying?"

Bilbo would have dug ta say: "A warm bath n' late breakfast on tha lawn afterwards;" but he thought it mo' betta ta say not a god damn thang at all, n' ta let go his clutch just a tiny bit.

After a phat while tha eaglez must have peeped tha point they was bustin for, 'even from they pimped out height, fo' they fuckin started ta go down circlin round up in pimped out spirals. They did dis fo' a long-ass while, n' at last tha hobbit opened his wild lil' fuckin eyes again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da earth was much nearer, n' below em was trees dat looked like oaks n' elms, n' wide grass lands, n' a river hustlin all up in it all. But croppin outta tha ground, muthafuckin right up in tha path of tha stream which looped itself bout it, was a pimped out rock, almost a hill of stone, like a last outpost of tha distant mountains, and a big-ass piece cast milez tha fuck into tha plain by some giant among giants. Quickly now ta tha top of dis rock tha eaglez swooped one by one n' set down they passengers.

"Farewell!" they cried, "wherever you fare, till yo' eyries receive you all up in tha journeyz end!" That is tha polite muthafuckin thang ta say among eagles. "May tha wind under yo' wings bear you where tha sun sails n' tha moon strutts," answered Gandalf, whoz ass knew tha erect reply fo' realz. And so they parted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And though tha lord of tha eaglez became up in afta days tha Mack of All Birdz n' wore a golden crown, n' his wild lil' fifteen chizzletains golden collars (made of tha gold dat tha dwarves gave them), Bilbo never saw em again-except high n' far off up in tha battle of Five Armies. But as dat comes up in all up in tha end of dis tale our crazy-ass asses will say no mo' bout it just now, nahmeean, biatch? There was a gangbangin' flat space on tha top of tha hill of stone n' a well worn path wit nuff steps leadin down it ta tha river, across which a gangbangin' ford of big-ass flat stones led ta tha grass-land beyond tha stream. There was a lil cave (a wholesome one wit a pebbly floor) all up in tha foot of tha steps n' near tha end of tha stony ford. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Here tha jam gathered n' discussed what tha fuck was ta be done.

"I always meant ta peep you all safe (if possible) over tha mountains," holla'd tha wizzle, "and now by phat management n' phat luck I have done dat shit. Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshizzle our crazy-ass asses is now a phat deal further eastside than I eva meant ta come wit you, fo' afta all dis aint mah adventure. I may look up in on it again before it be all over yo, but up in tha meanwhile I have some other pressin bidnizz ta attend to."

Da dwarves groaned n' looked most distressed, n' Bilbo wept. They had begun ta be thinkin Gandalf was goin up in come all tha way n' would always be there ta help em outta difficulties. "I be not goin ta disappear dis straight-up instant," holla'd he. "I can give you a thugged-out dizzle and two mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Probably I can help you outta yo' present plight, n' I need a lil help mah dirty ass. Our thugged-out asses have no chicken, n' no baggage, n' no ponies ta ride; n' you don't give a fuck where yo ass is. Now I can rap dat shit. Yo ass is still some milez uptown of tha path which our crazy-ass asses should done been following, if our crazy-ass asses had not left tha mountain pass up in a hurry. Straight-up few gangstas live up in these parts, unless they have come here since I was last down dis way, which is some muthafuckin years ago. But there is some muthafucka dat I know of, whoz ass lives not far away. That Some Muthafucka done cooked up tha steps on tha pimped out rock-the Carrock I believe he calls it yo. Dude do not come here often, certainly not up in tha daytime, n' it is no phat waitin fo' his muthafuckin ass. In fact it would be straight-up dangerous. Our thugged-out asses must go n' find him; n' if all goes well at our meeting, I be thinkin I shall be off n' wish you like tha eaglez 'farewell wherever you fare!' " They begged his ass not ta leave them. They offered his ass dragon-gold n' silver n' jewels yo, but he would not chizzle his crazy-ass mind.

"Our thugged-out asses shall see, our crazy-ass asses shall see!" he holla'd, "and I be thinkin I have earned already a shitload of yo' dragon-gold - when you have gots dat shit."

After dat they stopped pleading. Then they took off they threadz n' bathed up in tha river, which was shallow n' clear n' stony all up in tha ford. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! When they had dried up in tha sun, which was now phat n' warm, they was refreshed, if still sore n' a lil hungry. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they crossed tha ford (carryin tha hobbit), n' then fuckin started ta march all up in tha long chronicgrass n' down tha linez of tha wide-armed oaks n' tha tall elms.

"And why is it called tha Carrock?" axed Bilbo as he went along all up in tha wizzlez side.

"Dude called it tha Carrock, cuz carrock is his word fo' it yo. Dude calls thangs like dat carrocks, n' dis one is tha Carrock cuz it is tha only one near his home n' he knows it well."

"Who calls it, biatch? Who knows it?"

"Da Some Muthafucka I was rappin of-a straight-up pimped out person. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass must all be straight-up polite when I introduce yo thugged-out ass. I shall introduce you slowly, two by two, I think; n' you must be careful not ta annoy him, and heaven knows what tha fuck will happen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude can be appallin when he is supa pissed, though he is kind enough if humoured. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Still I warn you he gets supa pissed doggystyle."

Da dwarves all gathered round when they heard tha wizzle rappin' like dis ta Bilbo. "Is dat tha thug yo ass is takin our asses ta now?" they axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Couldn't you find some muthafucka mo' easy as fuck -tempered, biatch? Hadn't you mo' betta explain it all a funky-ass bit clearer?"-and so on.

"Yes it certainly is, muthafucka! No I could not, muthafucka! And I was explainin straight-up carefully," answered tha wizzle crossly. "If you must know more, his name is Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude is straight-up strong, n' he be a skin-changer."

"What, muthafucka! a gangbangin' furrier, a playa dat calls rabbits conies, when he don't turn they skins tha fuck into squirrels?" axed Bilbo.

"Dope gracious heavens, no, no, NO, NO!" holla'd Gandalf. "Don't be a gangbangin' fool Mista Muthafuckin Baggins if you can help it; n' up in tha name of all wonder don't mention tha word furrier again as long as yo ass is within a hundred milez of his house, nor, rug, cape, tippet, muff, nor any other such unfortunate word, muthafucka! Dude be a skin-changer yo. Dude chizzlez his skin; sometimes he be a big-ass black bear, sometimes he be a pimped out phat black-haired playa wit big-ass arms n' a pimped out beard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I cannot rap much more, though dat ought ta be enough. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some say dat he be a funky-ass bear descended from tha pimped out n' ancient bearz of tha mountains dat lived there before tha giants came. Others say dat he be a playa descended from tha straight-up original gangsta pimps whoz ass lived before Smaug and tha other dragons came tha fuck into dis part of tha ghetto, n' before tha goblins came tha fuck into tha hills outta tha North. I cannot say, though I fancy tha last is tha true tale yo. Dude aint tha sort of thug ta ask thangs of. At any rate he is under no enchantment but his own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude lives up in a oak-wood n' has a pimped out wooden house; n' as a playa he keeps cattle n' horses which is nearly is marvellous as his dirty ass. They work fo' his ass n' rap ta his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude do not smoke them; neither do he hunt and smoke wild muthafuckas yo. Dude keeps hives n' hivez of pimped out fierce bees, n' lives most on cream n' honey fo' realz. As a funky-ass bear he ranges far n' wide. I once saw his ass chillin all alone on tha top of tha Carrock at night watchin tha moon sinkin towardz tha Misty Mountains, n' I heard his ass growl up in tha tongue of bears; 'Da dizzle will come when they will perish n' I shall go back!' That is why I believe he once came from tha mountains his dirty ass."

Bilbo n' tha dwarves had now fuckloadz ta be thinkin about, n' they axed no mo' thangs. They still had a long-ass way ta strutt before them. Up slope n' down dale they plodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It grew straight-up hot. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes they rested under tha trees, n' then Bilbo felt so hungry dat he would have smoked acorns, if any had been ripe enough yet ta have fallen ta tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was tha middle of tha afternoon before they noticed dat pimped out patchez of flowers had begun ta sprin up, all tha same stupid-ass kindz growin together as if they had been planted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Especially there was clover, wavin patchez of cockscomb clover, n' purple clover, n' wide stretchez of short white sweet honey-smellin clover. There was a funky-ass buzzin n' a whirrin n' a thugged-out dronin up in tha air. Bees was busy all over dis biiiatch fo' realz. And such bees, muthafucka! Bilbo had never peeped anythang like them.

"If one was ta stin me," he thought, "I should swell up as big-ass again as I am!"

They was bigger than hornets. Da drones was bigger than yo' thumb, a phat deal, n' tha bandz of yellow on they deep black bodies shone like fiery gold.

"Our thugged-out asses is gettin near," holla'd Gandalf. "Our thugged-out asses is on tha edge of his bee-pastures."

After a while they came ta a funky-ass belt of tall n' straight-up ancient oaks, n' beyond these ta a high thorn-hedge all up in which you could neither peep nor scramble.

"Yo ass had mo' betta wait here," holla'd tha wizzle ta tha dwarves; "and when I call and whistle begin ta come afta mah crazy ass - yo big-ass booty is ghon peep tha way I go-but only up in pairs, mind, bout five minutes between each pair of yo thugged-out ass. Bombur is fattest n' will do fo' two, he had mo' betta come alone n' last. Come on Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, muthafucka! There be a gate somewhere round dis way." And wit dat he went off along tha hedge takin tha frightened hobbit wit his muthafuckin ass.

They soon came ta a wooden gate, high n' broad, beyond which they could peep gardens n' a cold-ass lil clusta of low wooden buildings, some thatched n' done cooked up of unshaped logs; barns, stables, sheds, n' a long-ass low wooden house. Inside on tha southward side of tha pimped out hedge was rows n' rowz of hives wit bell-shaped tops done cooked up of straw. Da noise of tha giant bees flyin ta n' fro n' crawlin up in n' up filled all tha air.

Da wizzle n' tha hobbit pushed open tha heavy creakin gate n' went down a wide track towardz tha house. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some horses, straight-up sleek n' well-groomed, trotted up across tha grass n' looked at em intently wit straight-up intelligent faces; then off they galloped ta tha buildings.

"They have gone ta tell his asz of tha arrival of strangers," holla'd Gandalf. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they reached a cold-ass lil courtyard, three wallz of which was formed by tha wooden doggy den n' its two long wings. In tha middle there was lyin a pimped out oak-trunk wit nuff lopped branches beside dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Standin near was a big-ass playa wit a thick black beard and' hair, n' pimped out bare arms n' legs wit knotted musclez yo. Dude was clothed up in a tunic of wool down ta his knees, n' was leanin on a big-ass axe. Da horses was standin by his ass wit they noses at his shoulder.

"Ugh, muthafucka! here they are!" he holla'd ta tha horses. "They don't look dangerous. Yo ass can be off!" Dude laughed a pimped out rollin laugh, put down his thugged-out axe n' came forward.

"Who is you n' what tha fuck do you want?" he axed gruffly, standin up in front of em n' towerin tall above Gandalf.

As fo' Bilbo he could easily have trotted all up in his fuckin legs without duckin his head ta miss tha fringe of tha manz brown tunic. "I be Gandalf," holla'd tha wizzle.

"Never heard of him," growled tha man, "And whatz dis lil fellow?" he holla'd, stoopin down ta frown all up in tha hobbit wit his bushy eyebrows. "That is Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, a hobbit of phat gang n' unimpeachable reputation," holla'd Gandalf. Bilbo bowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude had no basebizzle cap ta take off, n' was painfully consciouz of his crazy-ass nuff missin buttons. "I be a wizzle," continued Gandalf. "I have heard of you, if you have not heard of me; but like you have heard of mah phat cousin Radagast whoz ass lives near tha Downtown bordaz of Mirkwood?"

"Yes; not a funky-ass bad fellow as wizzlez go, I believe. I used ta peep his ass now n' again," holla'd Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Well, now I know whoz ass yo ass is, and whoz ass you say yo ass is. What do you want?"

"To rap tha truth, our crazy-ass asses have lost our luggage n' nearly lost our way, n' is rather up in need of help, and at least lyrics. I may say our crazy-ass asses have had rather a funky-ass bad time wit goblins up in tha mountains."

"Goblins?" holla'd tha big-ass playa less gruffly. "O ho, so you've been havin shizzle wit em have yo slick ass, biatch? What did you go near em for?" "Our thugged-out asses did not mean to. They surprised our asses at night up in a pass which our crazy-ass asses had ta cross, our crazy-ass asses was comin outta tha Landz over Westside tha fuck into these ghettos-it be a long-ass tale."

"Then you had mo' betta come inside n' tell mah crazy ass a shitload of it, if it won't take all day," holla'd tha playa leadin tha way all up in a thugged-out dark door dat opened outta tha courtyard tha fuck into tha house.

Peepin his ass they found themselves up in a wide hall wit a gangbangin' fire-place up in tha middle. Though it was summer there was a wood-fire burnin n' tha smoke was risin ta tha blackened raftas up in search of tha way up all up in a openin up in tha roof. They passed all up in dis dim hall, lit only by tha fire n' tha hole above it, n' came all up in another smalla door tha fuck into a sort of veranda propped on wooden posts done cooked up of single tree-trunks. It faced downtown n' was still warm n' filled wit tha light of tha westsideerin sun which slanted tha fuck into it, n' fell golden on tha garden full of flowers dat came muthafuckin right up ta tha steps.

Here they sat on wooden benches while Gandalf fuckin started his cold-ass tale, n' Bilbo swung his fuckin lil' danglin legs n' looked all up in tha flowers up in tha garden, wonderin what tha fuck they names could be, as he had never peeped half of em before.

"I was comin over tha mountains wit a gangbangin' playa and two..." holla'd tha wizzle.

"Or two, biatch? I can only peep one, n' a lil one at that," holla'd Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Well ta rap tha truth, I did not like ta bother you wit a shitload of us, until I found up if you was busy. I will give a cold-ass lil call, if I may." "Go on, call away!"

So Gandalf gave a long-ass shrill whistle, n' presently Thorin n' Dori came round tha doggy den by tha garden path n' stood bowin low before them. "One and three you meant, I see!" holla'd Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "But these aren't hobbits, they is dwarves!"

"Thorin Oakenshield, at yo' service, muthafucka! Dori at yo' service!" holla'd tha two dwarves bowin again.

"I don't need yo' service, fuck you," holla'd Beorn, "but I expect you need mine. I be not over fond of dwarves; but if it is true yo ass is Thorin (son of Thrain, lil hustla of Thror, I believe), n' dat yo' companion is respectable, n' dat yo ass is enemiez of goblins n' is not up ta any mischizzle up in mah lands-what is you up to, by tha way?" "They is on they way ta git on over ta tha land of they fathers, away eastside beyond Mirkwood," put up in Gandalf, "and it is entirely a accident dat our crazy-ass asses is up in yo' landz at all. Our thugged-out asses was crossin by tha High Pass dat should have brought our asses ta tha road dat lies ta tha downtown of yo' ghetto, when our crazy-ass asses was beat down by tha evil goblins-as I was bout ta tell yo thugged-out ass." "Go on telling, then!" holla'd Beorn, whoz ass was never straight-up polite. "There was a terrible storm; tha stone-giants was up hurlin rocks, n' all up in tha head of tha pass our crazy-ass asses took refuge up in a cold-ass lil cave, tha hob bit n' I n' nuff muthafuckin of our companions..."

"Do you call two several?"

"Well, no fo' realz. As a matter of fact there was mo' than two."

"Where is they, biatch? Capped, eaten, gone home?"

"Well, no. They don't seem all ta have come when I whistled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Shy, I expect. Yo ass see, our crazy-ass asses is straight-up much afraid dat our crazy-ass asses is rather a shitload fo' you ta entertain."

"Go on, whistle again, muthafucka! I be up in fo' a party, it seems, n' one and two mo' won't make much difference," growled Beorn.

Gandalf whistled again; but Nori n' Ori was there almost before he had stopped, for, if you remember, Gandalf had busted some lyrics ta em ta come up in pairs every last muthafuckin five minutes.

"Hullo!" holla'd Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Yo ass came pretty quick-where was you hiding, biatch? Come on mah jack-in-the-boxes!"

"Nori at yo' service, Ori at..." they fuckin started; but Beorn interrupted them.

"Nuff props, muthafucka! When I want yo' help I will ask fo' dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sit down, n' letz git on wit dis tale, and it is ghon be supper-time before it is ended." "As soon as our crazy-ass asses was asleep," went on Gandalf, "a crack all up in tha back of tha cave opened; goblins came up n' grabbed tha hobbit n' tha dwarves n' our troop of ponies-" "Troop of ponies, biatch? What was you-a pimpin' circus, biatch? Or was you carryin fuckin shitloadz of phats, biatch? Or do you always call six a troop?"

"O no, muthafucka! As a matter of fact there was mo' than six ponies, fo' there was mo' than six of us-and well, here is two more!" Just at dat moment Balin n' Dwalin rocked up n' bowed so low dat they beardz swept tha stone floor. Da big-ass playa was frownin at first yo, but they did they straight-up dopest ta be frightfully polite, n' kept on noddin n' bendin n' bowin n' wavin they hoodz before they knees (in proper dwarf-fashion), till he stopped frownin n' burst tha fuck into a cold-ass lil chucklin laugh; they looked so comical. "Troop, was right," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "A fine comic one. Come up in mah merry men, n' what tha fuck is yo' names, biatch? I don't want yo' steez just now, only yo' names; n' then sit down n' quit wagging!"

"Balin n' Dwalin," they holla'd not darin ta be offended, n' sat flop on tha floor lookin rather surprised.

"Now go on again!" holla'd Beorn ta tha wizzle.

"Where was I, biatch? O yes - I was not grabbed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I capped a goblin and two wit a gangbangin' flash-" "Dope!" growled Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "It be some phat bein a wizzle, then." "-and slipped inside tha crack before it closed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I followed down tha fuck into tha main hall, which was crowded wit goblins. Da Great Goblin was there wit thirty and forty armed guards. I thought ta mah dirty ass 'even if they was not all chained together, what tha fuck can a thugged-out dozen do against so many?' " "A dozen, muthafucka! Thatz tha straight-up original gangsta time I've heard eight called a thugged-out dozen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Or have you still gots some mo' jacks dat haven't yet come outta they boxes?" "Well, yes, there seem ta be a cold-ass lil couple mo' here now - Fili n' Kili, I believe," holla'd Gandalf, as these two now rocked up n' stood smilin n' bowing.

"Thatz enough!" holla'd Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Sit down n' be on tha fuckin' down-low, muthafucka! Now go on, Gandalf!" So Gandalf went on wit tha tale, until he came ta tha fight up in tha dark, tha discovery of tha lower gate, n' they horror when they found dat Mista Muthafuckin Baggins had been mislaid.

"Our thugged-out asses counted ourselves n' found dat there was no hobbit. There was only fourteen of our asses left!"

"Fourteen, muthafucka! Thatz tha straight-up original gangsta time I've heard one from ten leave fourteen.

Yo ass mean nine, and else you haven't busted some lyrics ta mah crazy ass yet all tha namez of yo' party." "Well, of course you haven't peeped Oin n' Gloin yet fo' realz. And, bless me, muthafucka! here they are. I hope yo big-ass booty is ghon forgive em fo' botherin yo thugged-out ass." "O let 'em all come, muthafucka! Hurry up, muthafucka! Come along, you two, n' sit down, muthafucka! But look here, Gandalf, even now our crazy-ass asses have only gots yo ass n' ten dwarves n' tha hobbit dat was lost. That only makes eleven (plus one mislaid) n' not fourteen, unless wizzlez count differently ta other gangstas. But now please git on wit tha tale." Beorn did not sheezy it mo' than he could help yo, but straight-up he had begun ta git straight-up interested. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass see, up in tha oldschool days he had known tha straight-up part of tha mountains dat Gandalf was describin yo. Dude nodded n' he growled, when he heard of tha hobbitz reappearizzle n' of they scramble down tha stone-slide n' of tha wolf-rin m tha woods. When Gandalf came ta they climbin tha fuck into trees wit tha wolves all underneath, he gots up n' strode bout n' muttered:

"I wish I had been there, muthafucka! I would have given em mo' than fireworks!" "Well," holla'd Gandalf straight-up glad ta peep dat his cold-ass tale was bustin a phat impression, "I did tha dopest I could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There our crazy-ass asses was wit tha wolves goin mad underneath our asses n' tha forest beginnin ta blaze up in places, when tha goblins came down from tha hills n' discovered us. They yelled wit delight n' busted joints bustin funk of us. Fifteen birdz up in five fir-trees..." "Dope heavens!" growled Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Don't pretend dat goblins can't can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Twelve aint fifteen n' they know dat shit."

"And so do I. There was Bifur n' Bofur as well. I haven't ventured ta introduce em before yo, but here they are."

In came Bifur n' Bofur. "And me!" gasped Bombur pullin up behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude was fat, n' also supa pissed at bein left till last yo. Dude refused ta wait five minutes, n' followed immediately afta tha other two. "Well, now there is fifteen of you; n' since goblins can count, I suppose dat be all dat there was up tha trees. Now like our crazy-ass asses can finish dis rap without any mo' interruptions." Mista Muthafuckin Baggins saw then how tha fuck smart-ass Gandalf had been. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da interruptions had straight-up done cooked up Beorn mo' horny bout tha story, n' tha rap had kept his ass from bustin tha dwarves off at once like suspicious beggars yo. Dude never invited gangstas tha fuck into his house, if he could help it yo. Dude had straight-up few playaz n' they lived a phat way away; n' he never invited mo' than a cold-ass lil couple these ta his fuckin lil' doggy den at a time. Now he had gots fifteen strangers chillin up in his thugged-out lil' porch!

By tha time tha wizzle had finished his cold-ass tale n' had busted some lyrics ta of tha eagles' rescue n' of how tha fuck they had all been brought ta tha Carrock, tha sun had fallen behind tha peakz of tha Misty Mountains n' tha shadows was long up in Beornz garden.

"A straight-up phat tale!" holla'd he. "Da dopest I have heard fo' a long-ass while. If all beggars could tell such a phat one, they might find mah crazy ass kinder. Yo ass may be bustin it all up, of course yo, but you deserve a supper fo' tha rap all tha same. Letz have somethang ta eat!"

"Yes, please!" they all holla'd together. "Nuff props straight-up much!" Inside tha hall it was now like dark. Beorn clapped his hands, n' up in trotted four dope white ponies n' nuff muthafuckin big-ass long-bodied grey dawgs. Beorn holla'd somethang ta em up in a queer language like animal noises turned tha fuck into talk. They went up again n' soon came back carryin torches up in they grills, which they lit all up in tha fire n' stuck up in low brackets on tha pillarz of tha hall bout tha central hearth.

Da dawgs could stand on they hind-legs when they wished, n' carry thangs wit they fore-feet. Quickly they gots up boardz n' trestlez from tha side walls n' set em up near tha fire.

Then baa-baa-baa, muthafucka! was heard, n' up in came some snow-white sheep led by a big-ass coal-black ram. One bore a white cloth embrizzleered all up in tha edges wit figurez of muthafuckas; others bore on they broad backs trays wit bowls n' plattas n' knives n' wooden spoons, which tha dawgs took n' quickly laid on tha trestle tables. These was straight-up low, low enough even fo' Bilbo ta sit at comfortably. Beside em a pony pushed two low-seated benches wit wide rush-bottoms n' lil short thick legs fo' Gandalf n' Thorin, while all up in tha far end he put Beornz big-ass black chair of tha same stupid-ass sort (in which he sat wit his stupid-ass pimped out legs stuck far up under tha table). These was all tha chairs he had up in his hall, n' he probably had em low like tha tablez fo' tha convenience of tha straight-up dope muthafuckas dat waited on his muthafuckin ass. What did tha rest sit on, biatch? They was not forgotten. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da other ponies came up in rollin round drum-shaped sectionz of logs, smoothed n' polished, n' low enough even fo' Bilbo; so soon they was all seated at Beornz table, n' tha hall had not peeped such a gatherin fo' nuff a year.

There they had a supper, and a thugged-out dinner, like fuckin they had not had since they left tha Last Homely Doggy Den up in tha Westside n' holla'd phat-bye ta Elrond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da light of tha torches n' tha fire flickered bout them, n' on tha table was two tall red beeswax candlez fo' realz. All tha time they ate, Beorn up in his fuckin lil' deep rollin voice busted some lyrics ta talez of tha wild landz on dis side of tha mountains, n' especially of tha dark n' dangerous wood, dat lay outstretched far ta Uptown n' Downtown a thugged-out dayz ride before them, barrin they way ta tha Eastside, tha terrible forest of Mirkwood.

Da dwarves listened n' shook they beards, fo' they knew dat they must soon venture tha fuck into dat forest n' dat afta tha mountains it was tha worst of tha perils they had ta pass before they came ta tha dragonz stronghold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! When dinner was over they fuckin started ta tell talez of they own yo, but Beorn seemed ta be growin drowsy n' paid lil heed ta them. They was rappin most of gold n' silver n' jewels n' tha bustin of thangs by smith-craft, n' Beorn did not step tha fuck up ta care fo' such thangs: there was no thangz of gold and silver up in his hall, n' few save tha knives was done cooked up of metal at all. They sat long all up in tha table wit they wooden drankin-bowls filled wit mead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da dark night came on outside. Da fires up in tha middle of tha hall was built wit fresh logs n' tha torches was put out, n' still they sat up in tha light of tha ridin' dirty flames wit tha pillarz of tha doggy den standin tall behind them, arid dark all up in tha top like treez of tha forest. Whether it was magic and not, it seemed ta Bilbo dat he heard a sound like wind up in tha branches stirrin up in tha rafters, n' tha hoot of owls. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon he fuckin started ta nod wit chill n' tha voices seemed ta grow far away, until he woke wit a start. Da pimped out door had creaked n' slammed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Beorn was gone. Da dwarves was chillin cross-legged on tha floor round tha fire, n' presently they fuckin started ta sing. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of tha verses was like dis yo, but there was nuff more, n' they rappin went on fo' a long-ass while:

"Da wind was on tha withered heath,

but up in tha forest stirred no leaf:

there shadows lay by night n' day,

and dark thangs silent crept beneath.

Da wind came down from mountains cold,

and like a tide it roared n' rolled;

the branches groaned, tha forest moaned,

and leaves was laid upon tha mould.

Da wind went on from Westside ta Eastside ;

all movement up in tha forest ceased,

but shrill n' harsh across tha marsh

its whistlin voices was busted out.

Da grasses hissed, they tassels bent,

the reedz was rattling-on it went

o' er shaken pool under heavens def

where racin cloudz was torn n' rent.

It passed tha lonely Mountain bare

and swept above tha dragonz lair :

there black n' dark lay bouldaz stark

and flyin smoke was up in tha air.

It left tha ghetto n' took its flight

over tha wide seaz of tha night.

Da moon set sail upon tha gale,

and stars was fanned ta leapin light."

Bilbo fuckin started ta nod again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly up stood Gandalf. "It be time fo' our asses ta chill," be holla'd, "-for our asses yo, but not I be thinkin fo' Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In dis hall our crazy-ass asses can rest sound n' safe yo, but I warn you all not ta forget what tha fuck Beorn holla'd before he left us: you must not stray outside until tha sun is up, on yo' peril." Bilbo found dat bedz had already been laid all up in tha side of tha hall, on a sort of raised platform between tha pillars n' tha outer wall. For his ass there was a lil mattresz of straw n' woollen blankets yo. Dude snuggled tha fuck into em straight-up gladly, summertime though it was. Da fire burned low n' he fell asleep. Yet up in tha night he woke: tha fire had now sunk ta a gangbangin' few embers; tha dwarves n' Gandalf was all asleep, ta judge by they breathang; a splash of white on tha floor came from tha high moon, which was peerin down all up in tha smoke-hole up in tha roof.

There was a growlin sound outside, n' a noise az of some pimped out animal scufflin all up in tha door. what tha fuck it was, n' whether it could be Beorn up in enchanted shape, n' if he would come up in as a funky-ass bear n' bust a cap up in em yo. Dude dived under tha blankets n' hid his head, n' fell asleep again at last up in spite of his wild lil' fears.

It was full mornin when he awoke. One of tha dwarves had fallen over his ass up in tha shadows where he lay, n' had rolled down wit a funky-ass bump from tha platform on ta tha floor. It was Bofur, n' he was grumblin bout it, when Bilbo opened his wild lil' fuckin eyes.

"Git up lazybones," he holla'd, "or there is ghon be no breakfast left fo' yo thugged-out ass."

Up jumped Bilbo. "Breakfast!" he cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Where is breakfast?" "Mostly inside us," answered tha other dwarves whoz ass was movin around tha hall; "but what tha fuck is left is up on tha veranda. Our thugged-out asses done been bout lookin fo' Beorn eva since tha sun gots up; but there is no sign of his ass anywhere, though our crazy-ass asses found breakfast laid as soon as our crazy-ass asses went out."

"Where is Gandalf?" axed Bilbo, movin off ta find somethang ta smoke as quick as he could.

"O, muthafucka! up n' bout somewhere," they busted some lyrics ta his muthafuckin ass. But he saw no sign of tha wizzle all dat dizzle until tha evening. Just before sunset he strutted tha fuck into tha hall, where tha hobbit n' tha dwarves was havin supper, waited on by Beornz straight-up dope muthafuckas, as they had been all day. Of Beorn they had peeped n' heard not a god damn thang since tha night before, n' they was gettin puzzled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Where is our host, n' where have you been all dizzle yo ass?" they all cried.

"One question at a time-and none till afta supper, muthafucka! I haven't had a funky-ass bite since breakfast."

At last Gandalf pushed away his thugged-out lil' plate n' jug - he had smoked two whole loaves (with massez of butter n' honey n' clotted cream) n' faded at least a quart of mead n' he took up his thugged-out lil' pipe. "I will answer tha second question first," he holla'd, "-but bless me, muthafucka! dis be a splendid place fo' smoke rings!" Indeed fo' a long-ass time they could git not a god damn thang mo' outta him, he was so busy bustin smoke-rings dodgin round tha pillarz of tha hall, changin em tha fuck into all sortz of different shapes n' colours, n' settin em at last chasin one another outta tha hole up in tha roof.

They must have looked straight-up queer from outside, poppin up tha fuck into tha air one afta another, green, blue, red, silver-grey, yellow, white; big-ass ones, lil ones; lil ones dodgin all up in big-ass ones n' joinin tha fuck into figure-eights, n' goin off like a gangbangin' flock of birdz tha fuck into tha distizzle. "I done been pickin up bear-tracks," he holla'd at last. "There must done been a regular bears' meetin outside here last night. I soon saw dat Beorn could not have done cooked up em all: there was far too nuff of them, n' they waz of various sizes too. I should say there was lil bears, big-ass bears, ordinary bears, n' gigantic big-ass bears, all ridin' dirty outside from dark ta nearly dawn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They came from almost every last muthafuckin direction, except from tha westside over tha river, from tha Mountains. In dat direction only one set of footprints led-none coming, only ones goin away from here.

I followed these as far as tha Carrock. There they disrocked up tha fuck into tha river yo, but tha gin n juice was too deep n' phat beyond tha rock fo' mah crazy ass ta cross. It be easy as fuck enough, as you remember, ta git from dis bank ta tha Carrock by tha ford yo, but on tha other side be a cold-ass lil cliff standin up from a swirlin channel. I had ta strutt milez before I found a place where tha river was wide n' shallow enough fo' mah crazy ass ta wade n' swim, n' then milez back again ta pick up tha tracks again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. By dat time it was too late fo' mah crazy ass ta follow em far. They went straight off up in tha direction of tha pine-woodz on tha eastside side of tha Misty Mountains, where our crazy-ass asses had our pleasant lil jam wit tha Wargs tha night before last fo' realz. And now I be thinkin I have answered yo' first question, too," ended Gandalf, n' he sat a long-ass while silent.

Bilbo thought he knew what tha fuck tha wizzle meant. "What shall our crazy-ass asses do," he cried, "if he leadz all tha Wargs n' tha goblins down here, biatch? Our thugged-out asses shall all be caught n' capped, muthafucka! I thought you holla'd he was not 9 playa of theirs." "So I did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And don't be silly, muthafucka! Yo ass had mo' betta go ta bed, yo' wits is chilly."

Da hobbit felt like crushed, n' as there seemed not a god damn thang else ta do he did go ta bed; n' while tha dwarves was still rappin joints he dropped asleep, still puzzlin his fuckin lil head bout Beorn, till he dreamed a thugged-out trip of hundredz of black bears ridin' dirty slow heavy dizzlez round n' round up in tha moonlight up in tha courtyard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then he raised up when everyone else was asleep, n' he heard tha same stupid-ass scraping, scuffling, snuffling, n' growlin as before. Next mornin they was all wakened by Beorn his dirty ass.

"So here you all is still!" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude picked up tha hobbit n' laughed: "Not smoked up by Wargs and goblins and wicked bears yet I see"; n' he poked Mista Muthafuckin Baggins' waistcoat most disrespectfully. "Little bunny is gettin ill n' fat again on bread n' honey," he chuckled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Come n' have some more!"

So they all went ta breakfast wit his muthafuckin ass. Beorn was most jolly fo' a cold-ass lil chizzle; indeed he seemed ta be up in a splendidly phat humour n' set em all bustin up wit his wild lil' funny stories; nor did they have ta wonder long where he had been and why he was so ill ta them, fo' he busted some lyrics ta em his dirty ass yo. Dude had been over tha river n' muthafuckin right back up tha fuck into tha mountains-from which you can guess dat he could travel quickly, up in bearz shape at any rate. From tha burnt wolf - glade he had soon found up dat part of they rap was true; but he had found mo' than that: he had caught a Warg n' a goblin wanderin up in tha woods. From these he had gots news: tha goblin patrols was still huntin wit Wargs fo' tha dwarves, n' they was fiercely supa pissed cuz of tha dirtnap of tha Great Goblin, n' also cuz of tha burnin of tha chizzle wolfz nozzle n' tha dirtnap from tha wizzlez fire of nuff of his chizzle servants. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So much they busted some lyrics ta his ass when he forced em yo, but he guessed there was mo' wickednizz than dis afoot, n' dat a pimped out raid of tha whole goblin army wit they wolf-allies tha fuck into tha landz shadowed by tha mountains might soon be done cooked up ta find tha dwarves, and ta take vengeizzle on tha pimps n' creatures dat lived there, n' whoz ass they thought must be shelterin them.

"It was a phat story, dat of yours," holla'd Beorn, "but I like it still mo' betta now I be shizzle it is true. Yo ass must forgive mah not takin yo' word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! If you lived near tha edge of Mirkwood, you would take tha word of no one dat you did not know as well as yo' brutha and mo' betta fo' realz. As it is, I can only say dat I have hurried home as fast as I could ta peep dat you was safe, n' ta offer you any help dat I can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I shall be thinkin mo' kindly of dwarves afta this. Capped tha Great Goblin, capped tha Great Goblin!" he chuckled fiercely ta his dirty ass.

"What did you do wit tha goblin n' tha Warg?" axed Bilbo suddenly. "Come n' see!" holla'd Beorn, n' they followed round tha crib fo' realz. A goblinz head was stuck outside tha gate n' a warg-skin was nailed ta a tree just beyond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Beorn was a gangbangin' fierce enemy. But now he was they playa, n' Gandalf thought it wise ta tell his ass they whole rap n' tha reason of they journey, so dat they could git da most thugged-out help he could offer.

This is what tha fuck he promised ta do fo' em yo. Dude would provide ponies fo' each of them, n' a horse fo' Gandalf, fo' they journey ta tha forest, n' he would lade em wit chicken ta last em fo' weeks wit care, n' packed so as ta be as easy as fuck as possible ta carry-nuts, flour, sealed jarz of dried fruits, n' red earthenware potz of honey, n' twice-baked cakes dat would keep phat a long-ass time, n' on a lil of which they could march far. Da bustin of these was one of his secrets; but honey was up in them, as up in most of his wild lil' chickens, n' they was phat ta eat, though they done cooked up one thirsty. Water, he holla'd, they would not need ta carry dis side of tha forest, fo' there was streams n' springs along tha road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But yo' way all up in Mirkwood is dark, dangerous n' difficult," he holla'd.

"Gin N Juice aint easy as fuck ta find there, nor chicken n' you know I be eatin up dat shizzle all muthafuckin day, biatch. Da time aint yet come fo' nuts (though it may be past n' gone indeed before you git ta tha other side), n' nuts is bout all dat grows there fit fo' chicken; up in there tha wild thangs is dark, queer, n' savage. I will provide you wit skins fo' carryin water, n' I will give you some bows n' arrows. But I doubt straight-up much whether anythang you find up in Mirkwood is ghon be wholesome ta smoke and ta drink. There is one stream there, I know, black n' phat which crosses tha path. That you should neither drink of, nor bathe in; fo' I have heard dat it carries enchantment n' a pimped out drowsinizz n' forgetfulnizz fo' realz. And up in tha dim shadowz of dat place I don't be thinkin yo big-ass booty is ghon blast anythang, wholesome and unwholesome, without strayin from tha path. That you MUST NOT do, fo' any reason. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "That be all tha lyrics I can give yo thugged-out ass. Beyond tha edge of tha forest I cannot help you much; you must depend on yo' luck n' yo' courage n' tha chicken I bust wit yo thugged-out ass fo' realz. At tha gate of tha forest I must ask you ta bust back mah horse n' mah ponies. But I wish you all speed, n' mah doggy den is open ta you, if eva you come back dis way again."

They gave props ta him, of course, wit nuff bows n' sweepingz of they hoodz n' wit nuff a "at yo' service, O masta of tha wide wooden halls!" But they spirits sank at his stupid-ass grave lyrics, n' they all felt dat tha adventure was far mo' dangerous than they had thought, while all tha time, even if they passed all tha perilz of tha road, tha dragon was waitin all up in tha end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All dat mornin they was busy wit preparations. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon afta middizzle they ate wit Beorn fo' tha last time, n' afta tha meal they mounted tha steedz he was lendin them, n' biddin his ass nuff farewells they rode off all up in his stupid-ass gate at a phat pace.

As soon as they left his high hedges all up in tha eastside of his wild lil' fenced landz they turned uptown n' then bore ta tha north-west. By his thugged-out lyrics they was no longer bustin fo' tha main forest-road ta tha downtown of his fuckin land. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Had they followed tha pass, they path would have led em down tha stream from tha mountains dat joined tha pimped out river milez downtown of tha Carrock fo' realz. At dat point there was a thugged-out deep ford which they might have passed, if they had still had they ponies, n' beyond dat a track led ta tha skirtz of tha wood n' ta tha entrizzle of tha oldschool forest road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But Beorn had warned em dat that way was now often used by tha goblins, while tha forest-road itself, he bad heard, was overgrown n' disused all up in tha eastsideern end n' led ta impassable marshes where tha paths had long been lost. Its eastsideern openin had also always been far ta tha downtown of tha Lonely Mountain, n' would have left em still wit a long-ass n' hard as fuck northward march when they gots ta tha other side. Uptown of tha Carrock tha edge of Mirkwood drew closer ta tha bordaz of tha Great River, n' though here tha Mountains too drew down nearer, Beorn advised em ta take dis way; fo' at a place a gangbangin' few days' ride due uptown of tha Carrock was tha gate of a lil-known pathway all up in Mirkwood dat led almost straight towardz tha Lonely Mountain.

"Da goblins," Beorn had holla'd, "will not dare ta cross tha Great River fo' a hundred milez uptown of tha Carrock nor ta come near mah doggy den - it is well protected at night, muthafucka! - but I should ride fast; fo' if they make they raid soon they will cross tha river ta tha downtown n' scour all tha edge of tha forest so as ta cut you off, n' Wargs run swifter than ponies. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still yo ass is less thuggy goin north, even though you seem ta be goin back nearer ta they strongholds; fo' dat is what tha fuck they will least expect, n' they will have tha longer ride ta catch yo thugged-out ass. Be off now as quick as you may!" That is why they was now ridin up in silence, gallopin wherever tha ground was grassy n' smooth, wit tha mountains dark on they left, n' up in tha distizzle tha line of tha river wit its trees drawin eva closer. Da sun had only just turned westside when they started, n' till evenin it lay golden on tha land bout them. It was hard as fuck ta be thinkin of pursuin goblins behind, n' when they had put nuff milez between em n' Beornz doggy den they fuckin started ta rap n' ta rap again n' ta forget tha dark forest-path dat lay up in front.

But up in tha evenin when tha dusk came on n' tha peakz of tha mountains glowered against tha sunset they done cooked up a cold-ass lil camp n' set a guard, n' most of em slept uneasily wit dreams up in which there came tha howl of huntin wolves n' tha criez of goblins. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still tha next mornin dawned bright n' fair again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There was a autumn-like mist white upon tha ground n' tha air was chill yo, but soon tha sun rose red up in tha Eastside n' tha mists vanished, n' while tha shadows was still long they was off again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they rode now fo' two mo' days, n' all tha while they saw not a god damn thang save grass n' flowers n' birdz n' scattered trees, n' occasionally lil' small-ass herdz of red deer browsin and chillin at noon up in tha shade. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes Bilbo saw tha hornz of tha harts stickin up outta tha long grass, n' at first he thought they was tha dead branchez of trees. That third evenin they was so eager ta press on, fo' Beorn had holla'd dat they should reach tha forest-gate early on tha fourth day, dat they rode still forward afta dusk n' tha fuck into tha night beneath tha moon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz.

As tha light faded Bilbo thought he saw away ta tha right, and ta tha left, tha shadowy form of a pimped out bear prowlin along up in tha same stupid-ass direction. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But if he dared ta mention it ta Gandalf, tha wizzle only holla'd: "Hush, muthafucka! Take no notice!" Next dizzle they started before dawn, though they night had been short fo' realz. As soon as it was light they could peep tha forest comin as it was ta hook up them, and waitin fo' em like a funky-ass black n' frownin wall before them. Da land fuckin started ta slope up n' up, n' it seemed ta tha hobbit dat a silence fuckin started ta draw up in upon them. Birdz fuckin started ta rap less. There was no mo' deer; not even rabbits was ta be seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. By tha afternoon they had reached tha eavez of Mirkwood, n' was restin almost beneath tha pimped out overhangin boughz of its outer trees. Their trunks was big-ass n' gnarled, they branches twisted, they leaves was dark n' long. Ivy grew on em n' trailed along tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Well, here is Mirkwood!" holla'd Gandalf. "Da top billin of tha forestz of tha Uptown ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I hope you like tha look of dat shit. Now you must bust back these pimpin ponies you have borrowed."

Da dwarves was inclined ta grumble at dis yo, but tha wizzle busted some lyrics ta em they was fools. "Beorn aint as far off as you seem ta think, n' you had mo' betta keep yo' promises anyway, fo' he be a funky-ass bad enemy. Mista Muthafuckin Baggins' eyes is sharper than yours, if you have not peeped each night afta dark a pimped out bear goin along wit our asses and chillin far of up in tha moon watchin our camps. Not only ta guard you n' guide you yo, but ta keep a eye on tha ponies too. Beorn may be yo' playa yo, but he loves his crazy-ass muthafuckas as his children. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass do not guess what tha fuck kindnizz he has shown you up in lettin dwarves ride em so far n' so fast, nor what tha fuck would happen ta you, if you tried ta take em tha fuck into tha forest." "What bout tha horse, then?" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Yo ass don't mention bustin dat back."

"I don't, cuz I be not bustin dat shit."

"What bout yo' promise then?"

"I will look afta dat shit. I be not bustin tha horse back, I be ridin it!"

Then they knew dat Gandalf was goin ta leave em all up in tha straight-up edge of Mirkwood, n' they was up in despair. But not a god damn thang they could say would chizzle his crazy-ass mind.

"Now our crazy-ass asses had dis all up before, when our crazy-ass asses landed on tha Carrock," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It be no bust jumpin off bout some shit. I have, as I busted some lyrics ta you, some pressin bidnizz away south; n' I be already late all up in botherin wit you gangstas. Our thugged-out asses may hook up again before all is over, n' then again of course our crazy-ass asses may not. That dependz on yo' luck n' on yo' courage n' sense; n' I be bustin Mista Muthafuckin Baggins wit yo thugged-out ass. I have busted some lyrics ta you before dat he has mo' bout his ass than you guess, n' yo big-ass booty is ghon find dat up before long. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So cheer up Bilbo n' don't look so glum. Cheer up Thorin n' Company, muthafucka! This is yo' expedizzle afta all. Think of tha treasure all up in tha end, n' forget tha forest n' tha dragon, at any rate until tomorrow morning!"

When tomorrow mornin came he still holla'd tha same. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So now there was not a god damn thang left ta do but ta fill they water-skins at a cold-ass lil clear sprin they found close ta tha forest-gate, n' unpack tha ponies. They distributed tha packages as fairly as they could, though Bilbo thought his fuckin lot was wearisomely heavy, n' did not at all like tha idea of trudgin fo' milez n' milez wit all dat on his back.

"Don't you worry!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "It will git lighter all too soon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Before long I expect our crazy-ass asses shall all wish our packs heavier, when tha chicken begins ta run short."

Then at last they holla'd phat-bye ta they ponies n' turned they headz fo' home. Off they trotted gaily, seemin straight-up glad ta put they tails towardz tha shadow of Mirkwood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As they went away Bilbo could have sworn dat a muthafuckin thang like a funky-ass bear left tha shadow of tha trees n' shambled off quickly afta them. Now Gandalf too holla'd farewell. Bilbo sat on tha ground feelin straight-up unaiiight n' wishin he was beside tha wizzle on his cold-ass tall horse yo. Dude had gone just inside tha forest afta breakfast (a straight-up skanky one), n' it had seemed as dark up in there up in tha mornin as at night, n' straight-up secret: "a sort of watchin n' waitin feeling," he holla'd ta his dirty ass.

"Dope-bye!" holla'd Gandalf ta Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "And phat-bye ta you all, phat-bye, muthafucka! Straight all up in tha forest is yo' way now, nahmeean, biatch? Don't stray off tha track!-if you do, it aint nuthin but a thousand ta one yo big-ass booty is ghon never find it again n' never git outta Mirkwood; n' then I don't suppose I, and any one else, will eva peep you again."

"Do our crazy-ass asses straight-up have ta go through?" groaned tha hobbit.

"Yes, you do!" holla'd tha wizzle, "if you wanna git ta tha other side. Yo ass must either go all up in and give up yo' quest fo' realz. And I be not goin ta allow you ta back up now, Mista Muthafuckin Baggins. I be ashamed of y'all fo' thankin of dat shit. Yo ass have gots ta look afta all these dwarves fo' me," he laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "No, muthafucka! no!" holla'd Bilbo. "I didn't mean dat shit. I meant, is there no way round?"

"There is, if you care ta go two hundred milez and so outta yo' way north, n' twice dat south. But you wouldn't git a safe path even then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There is no safe paths up in dis part of tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Remember yo ass is over tha Edge of tha Wild now, n' up in fo' all sortz of funk wherever you go. Before you could git round Mirkwood up in tha Uptown you would be muthafuckin right among tha slopez of tha Gay Mountains, n' they is simply stiff wit goblins, hobgoblins, n' rest of tha worst description. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Before you could git round it up in tha South, you would git tha fuck into tha land of tha Necromizzler; n' even yo thugged-out ass. Bilbo, won't need mah crazy ass ta rap talez of dat black sorcerer. I don't advise you ta go anywhere near tha places overlooked by his fuckin lil' dark tower, muthafucka! Stick ta tha forest-track, keep yo' spirits up, hope fo' tha best, n' wit a tremendous slice of luck you may come up one dizzle n' peep tha Long Marshes lyin below you, n' beyond them, high up in tha Eastside, tha Lonely Mountain where dear oldschool Smaug lives, though I hope he aint expectin yo thugged-out ass."

"Straight-up comfortin yo ass is ta be sure," growled Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Dope-bye, muthafucka! If you won't come wit us, you had mo' betta git off without any mo' talk!" "Dope-bye then, n' straight-up phat-bye!" holla'd Gandalf, n' he turned his horse n' rode down tha fuck into tha Westside. But he could not resist tha temptation ta have tha last word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Before he had passed like outta hearin he turned n' put his handz ta his crazy-ass grill n' called ta them. They heard his voice come faintly: "Dope-bye, muthafucka! Be phat, take care of yourselves-and DON'T LEAVE THE PATH!"

Then he galloped away n' was soon lost ta sight. "O phat-bye n' go away!" grunted tha dwarves, all tha mo' supa pissed cuz they was straight-up filled wit dismay at losin his muthafuckin ass. Now fuckin started da most thugged-out dangerous part of all tha journey. They each shouldered tha heavy pack n' tha water-skin which was they share, n' turned from tha light dat lay on tha landz outside n' plunged tha fuck into tha forest.


	8. Chapta 8 Flies n' Spiders

They strutted up in single file. Da entrizzle ta tha path was like a sort of arch leadin tha fuck into a gloomy tunnel done cooked up by two pimped out trees dat leant together, too oldschool n' strangled wit ivy n' hung wit lichen ta bear mo' than a gangbangin' few blackened leaves. Da path itself was narrow n' wound up in n' up among tha trunks. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon tha light all up in tha gate was like a lil bright hole far behind, n' tha on tha down-low was so deep dat they feet seemed ta thump along while all tha trees leaned over em n' listened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As theft eyes became used ta tha dimnizz they could peep a lil way ta either side up in a sort of darkened chronicglimmer.

Occasionally a slender beam of sun dat had tha luck ta slip up in all up in some openin up in tha leaves far above, n' still mo' luck up in not bein caught up in tha tangled boughs n' matted twigs beneath, stabbed down thin n' bright before them. But dis was seldom, n' it soon ceased altogether. There was black squirrels up in tha wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! As Bilboz sharp inquisitizzle eyes gots used ta seein thangs he could catch glimpsez of em whiskin off tha path n' scuttlin behind tree-trunks. There was queer noises too, grunts, scufflings, n' hurryings up in tha undergrowth, n' among tha leaves dat lay piled endlessly thick up in places on tha forest-floor; but what tha fuck done cooked up tha noises he could not see. Da nastiest thangs they saw was tha cobwebs: dark dense cobwebs wit threadz extraordinarily thick, often stretched from tree ta tree, and tangled up in tha lower branches on either side of them. There was none stretched across tha path yo, but whether cuz some magic kept it clear, and fo' what tha fuck other reason they could not guess.

It was not long before they grew ta don't give a fuck bout tha forest as heartily as they had hated tha tunnelz of tha goblins, n' it seemed ta offer even less hope of any ending. But they had ta go on n' on, long afta they was sick fo' a sight of tha sun n' of tha sky, n' longed fo' tha feel of wind on they faces. There was no movement of air down under tha forest-roof, n' it was everlastingly still n' dark n' stuffy. Even tha dwarves felt it, whoz ass was used ta tunnelling, n' lived at times fo' long whilez without tha light of tha sun; but tha hobbit, whoz ass dug holez ta cook up a doggy den up in but not ta spend summer days in, felt he was bein slowly suffocated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da nights was tha worst. It then became pitch-dark - not what tha fuck you call pitch-dark yo, but straight-up pitch; so black dat you straight-up could peep nothang. Bilbo tried flappin his hand up in front of his nozzle yo, but he could not peep it at all. Well, like it aint true ta say dat they could peep nothang: they could peep eyes.

They slept all closely huddled together, n' took it up in turns ta watch; n' when it was Bilboz turn he would peep gleams up in tha darknizz round them, n' sometimes pairz of yellow and red and chroniceyes would stare at his ass from a lil distizzle, n' then slowly fade n' disappear n' slowly shine up again up in another place fo' realz. And sometimes they would gleam down from tha branches just above him; n' dat was most terrifying. But tha eyes dat he dug tha least was wack pale bulbous sort of eyes. "Insect eyes" he thought, "not animal eyes, only they is much too big." Although it was not yet straight-up cold, they tried lightin watch-fires at night yo, but they soon gave dat up. It seemed ta brang hundredz n' hundredz of eyes all round them, though tha creatures, whatever they were, was careful never ta let they bodies sheezy up in tha lil flicker of tha flames. Worse still it brought thousandz of dark-grey n' black moths, some nearly as big-ass as yo' hand, flappin n' whirrin round they ears. They could not stand that, nor tha big-ass bats, black as a top-hat, either; so they gave up fires n' sat at night n' dozed up in tha enormous uncanny darknizz fo' realz. All dis went on fo' what tha fuck seemed ta tha hobbit ages upon ages; n' he was always hungry, fo' they was mad careful wit they provisions.

Even so, as days followed days, n' still tha forest seemed just tha same, they fuckin started ta git anxious. Da chicken would not last fo' ever: it was up in fact already beginnin ta git low. They tried shootin all up in tha squirrels, n' they wasted nuff arrows before they managed ta brang one down on tha path. But when they roasted it, it proved wack ta taste, n' they blasted no mo' squirrels. They was thirsty too, fo' they had none too much water, n' up in all tha time they had peeped neither sprin nor stream. This was they state when one dizzle they found they path blocked by a hustlin water. It flowed fast n' phat but not straight-up wide muthafuckin right across tha way, n' it was black, and looked it up in tha gloom. It was well dat Beorn had warned em against it, and they would have faded from it, whatever its colour, n' filled a shitload of they emptied skins at its bank fo' realz. As it was they only thought of how tha fuck ta cross it without wettin themselves up in its water. There had been a funky-ass bridge of wood across yo, but it had rotted n' fallen leavin only tha broken posts near tha bank. Bilbo kneelin on tha brink n' peerin forward cried: "There be a funky-ass boat against tha far bank, muthafucka! Now why couldn't it done been dis side!" "How tha fuck far away do you be thinkin it is?" axed Thorin, fo' by now they knew Bilbo had tha sharpest eyes among them.

"Not at all far. I shouldn't be thinkin above twelve yards."

"Twelve yards, muthafucka! I should have thought it was thirty at least yo, but mah eyes don't peep as well as they used a hundred muthafuckin years ago. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still twelve yardz be as phat as a mile. Our thugged-out asses can't jump it, n' our crazy-ass asses daren't try ta wade and swim." "Can any of y'all throw a rope?"

"Whatz tha phat of that, biatch? Da boat is shizzle ta be tied up, even if our crazy-ass asses could hook it, which I doubt."

"I don't believe it is tied," holla'd Bilbo, "though of course I can't be shizzle up in dis light; but it looks ta mah crazy ass as if it was just drawn up on tha bank, which is low just there where tha path goes down tha fuck into tha water." "Dori is tha strongest yo, but Fili is tha lil'est n' still has tha dopest sight," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Come here Fili, n' peep if you can peep tha boat Mista Muthafuckin Baggins is rappin' about."

Fili thought he could; so when he had stared a long-ass while ta git a idea of tha direction, tha others brought his ass a rope. They had nuff muthafuckin wit them, n' on tha end of tha longest they fastened one of tha big-ass iron hooks they had used fo' catchin they packs ta tha straps bout they shoulders. Fili took dis up in his hand, balizzled it fo' a moment, n' then flung it across tha stream.

Splash it fell up in tha water, muthafucka! "Not far enough!" holla'd Bilbo whoz ass was peerin forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "A couple feet n' you would have dropped it on ta tha boat. Try again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I don't suppose tha magic is phat enough ta hurt you, if you just touch a funky-ass bit of wet rope."

Fili picked up tha hook when he had drawn it back, rather doubtfully all tha same. This time he threw it wit pimped outer strength. "Steady!" holla'd Bilbo, "you have thrown it muthafuckin right tha fuck into tha wood on tha other side now, nahmeean, biatch? Draw it back gently." Fili hauled tha rope back slowly, n' afta a while Bilbo holla'd:

"Carefully, muthafucka! It be lyin on tha boat; letz hope tha hook will catch." It did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da rope went taut, n' Fili pulled up in vain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Kili came ta his help, n' then Oin n' Gloin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They tugged n' tugged, n' suddenly they all fell over on they backs. Bilbo was on tha lockout, however, caught tha rope, n' wit a piece of stick fended off tha lil black boat as it came rushin across tha stream. "Help!" he shouted, n' Balin was just up in time ta seize tha boat before it floated off down tha current.

"It was tied afta all," holla'd he, lookin all up in tha snapped painter dat was still danglin from dat shit. "That was a phat pull, mah lads; n' a phat thang dat our rope was tha stronger."

"Who'll cross first?" axed Bilbo.

"I shall," holla'd Thorin, "and yo big-ass booty is ghon come wit me, n' Fili n' Balin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Thatz as nuff as tha boat will hold at a time fo' realz. After dat Kili n' Oin n' Gloin n' Don; next On n' Nori, Bifur n' Bofur; n' last Dwalin n' Bombur." "I be always last n' I don't like it," holla'd Bombur. "It aint nuthin but some muthafucka elsez turn todizzle."

"Yo ass should not be so fat fo' realz. As yo ass is, you must be wit tha last n' lightest boatload. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Don't start grumblin against orders, and somethang bad will happen ta yo thugged-out ass."

"There aren't any oars yo. How tha fuck is you goin ta push tha boat back ta tha far bank?" axed tha hobbit.

"Give mah crazy ass another length of rope n' another hook," holla'd Fili, n' when they had gots it ready, he cast tha fuck into tha darknizz ahead n' as high as he could throw dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Since it did not fall down again, they saw dat it must have stuck up in tha branches. "Git up in now," holla'd Fili, "and one of y'all haul on tha rope dat is stuck up in a tree on tha other side. One of tha others must keep hold of tha hook our crazy-ass asses used at first, n' when our crazy-ass asses is safe on tha other side he can hook it on, n' you can draw tha boat back."

In dis way they was all soon on tha far bank safe across tha enchanted stream. Dwalin had just scrambled up wit tha coiled rope on his thugged-out arm, n' Bombur (still grumbling) was gettin locked n loaded ta follow, when somethang bad did happen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There was a gangbangin' flyin sound of hooves on tha path ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Out of tha gloom came suddenly tha shape of a gangbangin' flyin deer. It charged tha fuck into tha dwarves n' bowled em over, then gathered itself fo' a leap yo. High it sprang n' cleared tha gin n juice wit a mighty jump. But it did not reach tha other side up in safety. Thorin was tha only one whoz ass had kept his wild lil' feet n' his wits fo' realz. As soon as they had landed he had bent his bow n' fitted a arrow up in case any hidden guardian of tha boat rocked up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now he busted a swift n' shizzle blasted tha fuck into tha leapin beast fo' realz. As it reached tha further bank it stumbled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da shadows swallowed it up yo, but they heard tha sound of hooves quickly falter n' then go still. Before they could shout up in praise of tha shot, however, a thugged-out dreadful wail from Bilbo put all thoughtz of venison outta they minds. "Bombur has fallen in, muthafucka! Bombur is drowning!" he cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was only too true. Bombur had only one foot on tha land when tha hart bore down on him, n' sprang over his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude had stumbled, thrustin tha boat away from tha bank, n' then toppled back tha fuck into tha dark water, his handz slippin off tha slimy roots all up in tha edge, while tha boat span slowly off n' disrocked up.

They could still peep his hood above tha gin n juice when they ran ta tha bank.

Quickly they flung a rope wit a hook towardz his muthafuckin ass yo. His hand caught it, n' hey pulled his ass ta tha shore yo. Dude was drenched from afro ta boots, of course yo, but dat was not tha worst. When they laid his ass on tha bank he was already fast asleep, wit one hand clutchin tha rope so tight dat they could not git it from his stupid-ass grasp; n' fast asleep he remained up in spite of all they could do. They was still standin over him, cursin they ill luck, n' Bomburz clumsiness, n' lamentin tha losz of tha boat which juiced it up impossible fo' em ta go back n' look fo' tha hart, when they became aware of tha dim blowin of horns up in tha wood n' tha sound az of dawgs bayin far off. Then they all fell silent; n' as they sat it seemed they could hear tha noise of a pimped out hunt goin by ta tha uptown of tha path, though they saw no sign of dat shit. There they sat fo' a long-ass while n' did not dare ta cook up a move. Bombur slept on wit a smile on his wild lil' fat face, as if he no longer cared fo' all tha shits dat vexed them.

Suddenly on tha path ahead rocked up some white deer, a hind n' fawns as snowy white as tha hart had been dark. They glimmered up in tha shadows. Before Thorin could cry up three of tha dwarves had leaped ta they feet n' loosed off arrows from they bows. None seemed ta find they mark. Da deer turned n' vanished up in tha trees as silently as they had come, n' up in vain tha dwarves blasted they arrows afta them.

"Stop, muthafucka! stop!" shouted Thorin; but it was too late, tha buckwild dwarves had wasted they last arrows, n' now tha bows dat Beorn had given em was useless.

They was a gloomy jam dat night, n' tha gloom gathered still deeper on em up in tha followin days. They had crossed tha enchanted stream; but beyond it tha path seemed ta straggle on just as before, n' up in tha forest they could peep no chizzle. Yet if they had known mo' bout it n' considered tha meanin of tha hunt n' tha white deer dat had rocked up upon they path, they would have known dat they was at last drawin towardz tha eastsideern edge, n' would soon have come, if they could have kept up they courage n' they hope, ta thinner trees n' places where tha sunlight came again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But they did not know this, n' they was burdened wit tha heavy body of Bombur, which they had ta carry along wit em as dopest they could, takin tha wearisome task up in turnz of four each while tha others shared they packs. If these had not become all too light up in tha last few days, they would never have managed it; but a slumberin n' smilin Bombur was a skanky exchange fo' packs filled wit chicken however heavy. In a gangbangin' few days a time came when there was practically not a god damn thang left ta smoke and ta drink. Nothang wholesome could they peep growin up in tha woods, only funguses n' herbs wit pale leaves n' unpleasant smell.

Bout four days from tha enchanted stream they came ta a part where most of tha trees was beeches. They was at first inclined ta be cheered by tha chizzle, fo' here there was no undergrowth n' tha shadow was not so deep. There was a greenish light bout them, n' up in places they could peep some distizzle ta either side of tha path. Yet tha light only flossed em endless linez of straight grey trunks like tha pillarz of some big-ass twilight hall. There was a funky-ass breath of air n' a noise of wind yo, but it had a fucked up sound. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A few leaves came rustlin down ta remind em dat outside autumn was comin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Their feet ruffled among tha dead leavez of countless other autumns dat drifted over tha bankz of tha path from tha deep red carpetz of tha forest. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still Bombur slept n' they grew straight-up weary fo' realz. At times they heard dison tha fuckin' down-lowin laughter. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes there was rappin up in tha distizzle too. Da laughter was tha laughter of fair voices not of goblins, n' tha rappin was dope yo, but it sounded eerie n' strange, n' they was not comforted, rather they hurried on from em parts wit what tha fuck strength they had left. Two days later they found they path goin downwardz n' before long they was up in a valley filled almost entirely wit a mighty growth of oaks. "Is there no end ta dis accursed forest?" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Some Muthafucka must climb a tree n' peep if he can git his head above tha roof n' gots a look round. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da only way is ta chizzle tha tallest tree dat overhangs tha path."

Of course "some muthafucka" meant Bilbo. They chose his ass cuz ta be of any bust tha climber must git his head above tha topmost leaves, n' so he must be light enough fo' tha highest n' slenderest branches ta bear his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Skanky Mista Muthafuckin Baggins had never had much practice up in climbin trees yo, but they hoisted his ass up tha fuck into tha lowest branchez of a enormous oak dat grew muthafuckin right up tha fuck into tha path, n' up he had ta go as dopest he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude pushed his way all up in tha tangled twigs wit nuff a slap up in tha eye; he was greened n' grimed from tha oldschool bark of tha pimped outer boughs; mo' than once he slipped n' caught his dirty ass just up in time; n' at last, afta a thugged-out dreadful struggle up in a thugged-out hard as fuck place where there seemed ta be no convenient branches at all, he gots near tha top fo' realz. All tha time he was wonderin whether there was spidaz up in tha tree, n' how tha fuck he was goin ta git down again (except by falling).

In tha end he poked his head above tha roof of leaves, n' then he found spidaz all right. But they was only lil' small-ass onez of ordinary size, n' they was afta tha butterflies. Bilboz eyes was nearly blinded by tha light yo. Dude could hear tha dwarves shoutin up at his ass from far below yo, but he could not answer, only hold on n' blink. Da sun was shinin buckwildly, n' it was a long-ass while before he could bear dat shit. When he could, he saw all round his ass a sea of dark green, ruffled here n' there by tha breeze; n' there was everywhere hundredz of butterflies. I expect they was a kind of 'purple emperor,' a funky-ass butterfly dat loves tha topz of oak-woodz yo, but these was not purple at all, they was a thugged-out dark dark velvety black without any markings ta be seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude looked all up in tha 'black emperors' fo' a long-ass time, n' enjoyed tha feel of tha breeze up in his afro n' on his wild lil' face; but at length tha criez of tha dwarves, whoz ass was now simply stampin wit impatience down below, reminded his asz of his bangin real bidnizz. It was no phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Gaze as much as he might, he could peep no end ta tha trees n' tha leaves up in any direction. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. His heart, dat had been lightened by tha sight of tha sun n' tha feel of tha wind, sank back tha fuck into his cold-ass toes: there was no chicken ta go back ta down below.

Actually, as I have busted some lyrics ta you, they was not far off tha edge of tha forest; n' if Bilbo had had tha sense ta peep it, tha tree dat he had climbed, though it was tall up in itself, was standin near tha bottom of a wide valley, so dat from its top tha trees seemed ta swell up all round like tha edgez of a pimped out bowl, n' he could not expect ta peep how tha fuck far tha forest lasted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Still he did not peep this, n' he climbed down full of despair yo. Dude gots ta tha bottom again at last scratched, hot, n' miserable, n' he could not peep anythang up in tha gloom below when he gots there yo. His report soon done cooked up tha others as miserable as he was.

"Da forest goes on fo' eva n' eva n' eva up in all directions, muthafucka! Whatever shall our crazy-ass asses do, biatch? And what tha fuck is tha bust of bustin a hobbit!" they cried, as if it was his wild lil' fault. They did not care tuppence bout tha butterflies, n' was only done cooked up mo' supa pissed when he busted some lyrics ta em of tha dope breeze, which they was too heavy ta climb up n' feel.

That night they ate they straight-up last scraps n' crumbz of chicken; n' next mornin when they woke tha straight-up original gangsta muthafuckin thang they noticed was dat they was still gnawingly hungry, n' tha next muthafuckin thang was dat it was rainin n' dat here n' there tha drip of it was droppin heavily on tha forest floor. That only reminded em dat they was also parchingly thirsty, without bustin anythang ta relieve them: you cannot quench a terrible thirst by standin under giant oaks n' waitin fo' a cold-ass lil chizzle drip ta fall on yo' tongue. Da only scrap of comfort there was, came unexpectedly from Bombur yo. Dude raised up suddenly n' sat up scratchin his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude could not make up where he was at all, nor why he felt so hungry; fo' he had forgotten everythang dat had happened since they started they journey dat May mornin long ago. Da last muthafuckin thang dat he remembered was tha jam all up in tha hobbitz house, n' they had pimped out hang-upin bustin his ass believe they tale of all tha nuff adventures they had had since.

When he heard dat there was not a god damn thang ta eat, he sat down n' wept, fo' he felt straight-up weak n' wobbly up in tha legs. "Why eva did I wake up!" he cried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I was havin such dope dreams. I dreamed I was struttin up in a gangbangin' forest rather like dis one, only lit wit torches on tha trees n' lamps swingin from tha branches n' fires burnin on tha ground; n' there was a pimped out feast goin on, goin on fo' eva fo' realz. A woodland mackdaddy was there wit a cold-ass lil crown of leaves, n' there was a merry rappin, n' I could not count and describe tha thangs there was ta smoke n' drink."

"Yo ass need not try," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "In fact if you can't rap bout somethang else, you had mo' betta be silent. Our thugged-out asses is like annoyed enough wit you as it is. If you hadn't waked up, our crazy-ass asses should have left you ta yo' idiotic dreams up in tha forest; yo ass is no joke ta carry even afta weekz of short commons."

There was not a god damn thang now ta be done but ta tighten tha belts round they empty stomachs, n' hoist they empty sacks n' packs, n' trudge along tha track without any pimped out hope of eva gettin ta tha end before they lay down n' took a dirt nap of starvation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This they did all dat day, goin straight-up slowly n' wearily, while Bombur kept on beatboxin dat his fuckin legs would not carry his ass n' dat he wanted ta lie down n' chill.

"No you don't!" they holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Let yo' legs take they share, our crazy-ass asses have carried you far enough."

All tha same stupid-ass he suddenly refused ta go a step further n' flung his dirty ass on tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Go on, if you must," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I be just goin ta lie here n' chill n' trip of chicken, if I can't git it any other way. I hope I never raise up again."

At dat straight-up moment Balin, whoz ass was a lil way ahead, called out: "What was that, biatch? I thought I saw a twinkle of light up in tha forest." They all looked, n' a longish way off, it seemed, they saw a red twinkle up in tha dark; then another n' another sprang up beside dat shit. Even Bombur gots up, n' they hurried along then, not carin if it was trolls and goblins. Da light was up in front of em n' ta tha left of tha path, n' when at last they had drawn level wit it, it seemed plain dat torches n' fires was burnin under tha trees yo, but a phat way off they track.

"It looks as if mah dreams was comin true," gasped Bombur puffin up behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude wanted ta rush straight off tha fuck into tha wood afta tha lights. But tha others remembered only too well tha warningz of tha wizzle n' of Beorn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "A feast would be no phat, if our crazy-ass asses never gots back kickin it from it," holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "But without a gangbangin' feast our crazy-ass asses shan't remain kickin it much longer anyway," holla'd Bombur, n' Bilbo heartily agreed wit his muthafuckin ass. They broke off some disrespec bout it backwardz n' forwardz fo' a long-ass while, until they agreed at length ta bust up a cold-ass lil couple spies, ta creep near tha lights n' smoke up mo' bout them. But then they could not smoke on whoz ass was ta be sent: no one seemed anxious ta run tha chizzle of bein lost n' never findin his wild lil' playaz again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In tha end, up in spite of warnings, hunger decided them, cuz Bombur kept on describin all tha phat thangs dat was bein eaten, accordin ta his fuckin lil' dream, up in tha woodland feast; so they all left tha path n' plunged tha fuck into tha forest together fo' realz. After a phat deal of creepin n' crawlin they peered round tha trunks n' looked tha fuck into a cold-ass lil clearin where some trees had been felled n' tha ground levelled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There was nuff gangstas there, elvish-lookin folk, all dressed up in chronicand brown n' chillin on sawn ringz of tha felled trees up in a pimped out circle. There was a gangbangin' fire up in they midst n' there was torches fastened ta a shitload of tha trees round about; but most splendid sight of all: they was smokin n' drankin n' bustin up merrily.

Da smell of tha roast meats was so enchantin that, without waitin ta consult one another, every last muthafuckin one of em gots up n' scrambled forwardz tha fuck into tha rang wit tha one idea of beggin fo' some chicken n' you know I be eatin up dat shizzle all muthafuckin day, biatch. No sooner had tha straight-up original gangsta stepped tha fuck into tha clearin than all tha lights went up as if by magic.

Some Muthafucka kicked tha fire n' it went up up in rocketz of glitterin sparks n' vanished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was lost up in a cold-ass lil straight-up lightless dark n' they could not even find one another, not fo' a long-ass time at any rate fo' realz. After blunderin frantically up in tha gloom, fallin over logs, bumpin crash tha fuck into trees, n' shoutin n' callin till they must have waked everythang up in tha forest fo' miles, at last they managed ta gather themselves up in a funky-ass bundle n' count themselves by touch. By dat time they had, of course, like forgotten up in what tha fuck direction tha path lay, n' they was all hopelessly lost, at least till morning.

There was not a god damn thang fo' it but ta settle down fo' tha night where they were; they did not even dare ta search on tha ground fo' scrapz of chicken fo' fear of becomin separated again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But they had not been lyin long, n' Bilbo was only just gettin drowsy, when Dori, whose turn it was ta watch first, holla'd up in a loud whisper:

"Da lights is comin up again over there, n' there is mo' than eva of them."

Up they all jumped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There, shizzle enough, not far away was scorez of twinklin lights, n' they heard tha voices n' tha laughter like plainly. They crept slowly towardz them, up in a single line, each touchin tha back of tha one up in front. When they gots near Thorin holla'd: "No rushin forward dis time, muthafucka! No one is ta stir from hidin till I say. I shall bust Mista Muthafuckin Baggins alone first ta rap ta them. They won't be frightened of him-('What bout mah crazy asz of them?' thought Bilbo)-and any way I hope they won't do anythang nasty ta his muthafuckin ass." When they gots ta tha edge of tha circle of lights they pushed Bilbo suddenly from behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Before he had time ta slip on his bangin ring, he stumbled forward tha fuck into tha full blaze of tha fire n' torches. It was no phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Out went all tha lights again n' complete darknizz fell. If it had been hard as fuck collectin themselves before, it was far worse dis time fo' realz. And they simply could not find tha hobbit. Every time they counted themselves it only done cooked up thirteen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They shouted n' called: "Bilbo Baggins, muthafucka! Hobbit, muthafucka! Yo ass dratted hobbit, muthafucka! Hi, muthafucka! hobbit, confusticate you, where is yo slick ass?" n' other thangz of dat sort yo, but there was no answer.

They was just givin up hope, when Dori stumbled across his ass by sheer luck. In tha dark he fell over what tha fuck he thought was a log, n' he found it was tha hobbit curled up fast asleep. It took a thugged-out deal of bobbin ta wake him, n' when he was awake he was not pleased at all.

"I was havin such a ghettofab dream," he grumbled, "all bout havin a most gorgeous dinner."

"Dope heavens, muthafucka! he has gone like Bombur," they holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Don't tell our asses bout dreams. Dream-dinners aren't any phat, n' our crazy-ass asses can't share them." "They is tha dopest I be likely ta git up in dis beastly place," he muttered, as he lay down beside tha dwarves n' tried ta go back ta chill n' find his fuckin lil' trip again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But dat was not tha last of tha lights up in tha forest. Later when tha night must done been gettin old, Kili whoz ass was watchin then, came n' roused em all again, saying:

"Therez a regular blaze of light begun not far away - hundredz of torches n' nuff fires must done been lit suddenly n' by magic fo' realz. And hark ta tha rappin n' tha harps!"

After lyin n' listenin fo' a while, they found they could not resist tha desire ta go nearer n' try once mo' ta git help. Up they gots again; n' dis time tha result was disastrous. Da feast dat they now saw was pimped outer n' mo' magnificent than before; n' all up in tha head of a long-ass line of feastas sat a woodland mackdaddy wit a cold-ass lil crown of leaves upon his stupid-ass golden hair, straight-up much as Bombur had busted lyrics bout tha figure up in his fuckin lil' dream. Da elvish folk was passin bowls from hand ta hand n' across tha fires, n' some was harpin n' nuff was rappin. Their gloamin afro was twined wit flowers; chronicand white gems glinted on they collars n' they belts; n' they faces n' they joints was filled wit mirth. Loud n' clear n' fair was em joints, n' up stepped Thorin tha fuck into they midst.

Dead silence fell up in tha middle of a word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Out went all light. Da fires leaped up up in black smokes fo' realz. Ashes n' cindaz was up in tha eyez of tha dwarves, n' tha wood was filled again wit they clamour n' they cries. Bilbo found his dirty ass hustlin round n' round (as he thought) n' callin n' calling:

"Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, Dwalin, Balin, Thorin Oakenshield," while gangstas he could not peep and feel was bustin tha same stupid-ass all round his ass (with a occasionizzle "Bilbo!" thrown in). But tha criez of tha others gots steadily further n' fainter, n' though afta a while it seemed ta his ass they chizzled ta yells n' cries fo' help up in tha far distizzle, all noise at last took a dirt nap muthafuckin right away, n' he was left alone up in complete silence n' darkness. That was one of his crazy-ass most miserable moments. But he soon done cooked up up his crazy-ass mind dat it was no phat tryin ta do anythang till dizzle came wit some lil light, n' like useless ta go blunderin bout tirin his dirty ass up wit no hope of any breakfast ta revive his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So he sat his dirty ass down wit his back ta a tree, n' not fo' tha last time fell ta thankin of his wild lil' far-distant hobbit-hole wit its dope pantries yo. Dude was deep up in thoughtz of bacon n' eggs n' toast n' butter when he felt somethang touch his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang like a phat sticky strang was against his fuckin left hand, n' when he tried ta move he found dat his fuckin legs was already wrapped up in tha same stupid-ass stuff, so dat when he gots up he fell over.

Then tha pimped out spider, whoz ass had been gettin busy like a biiiatch tyin his ass up while he dozed, came from behind his ass n' came at his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude could only peep tha thangsz eyes yo, but he could feel its hairy legs as it struggled ta wind its abominable threadz round n' round his muthafuckin ass. It was lucky dat he had come ta his senses up in time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon he would not done been able ta move at all fo' realz. As it was, he had a thugged-out desperate fight before he gots free yo. Dude beat tha creature off wit his hands-it was tryin ta poison his ass ta keep his ass on tha fuckin' down-low, as lil' small-ass spidaz do ta flies-until he remembered his sword n' drew it out. Then tha spider jumped back, n' he had time ta cut his fuckin legs loose fo' realz. After dat it was his cold-ass turn ta attack. Da spider evidently was not used ta thangs dat carried such stings at they sides, and it would have hurried away quicker. Bilbo came at it before it could disappear n' struck it wit his sword muthafuckin right up in tha eyes. Then it went mad n' leaped n' dizzled n' flung up its legs up in wack jerks, until he capped it wit another stroke; n' then he fell down n' remembered not a god damn thang mo' fo' a long-ass while.

There was tha usual dim grey light of tha forest-dizzle bout his ass when he came ta his senses. Da spider lay dead beside him, n' his sword-blade was stained black. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somehow tha cappin' of tha giant spider, all alone by his dirty ass up in tha dark without tha help of tha wizzle and tha dwarves and of every last muthafuckin muthafucka else, done cooked up a pimped out difference ta Mista Muthafuckin Baggins yo. Dude felt a thugged-out different person, n' much fiercer n' bolda up in spite of a empty stomach, as he wiped his sword on tha grass n' put it back tha fuck into its sheath.

"I will give you a name," he holla'd ta it, "and I shall call you Sting." After dat he set up ta explore. Da forest was grim n' silent yo, but obviously he had first of all ta look fo' his wild lil' playas, whoz ass was not likely ta be straight-up far off, unless they had been done cooked up prisoners by tha elves (or worse thangs).

Bilbo felt dat it was unsafe ta shout, n' he stood a long-ass while wonderin up in what tha fuck direction tha path lay, n' up in what tha fuck direction he should go first ta look fo' tha dwarves. "O, muthafucka! why did our crazy-ass asses not remember Beornz lyrics, n' Gandalf's!" he lamented. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What a mess our crazy-ass asses is up in now, muthafucka! We, muthafucka! I only wish it was we: it is wack bein all alone."

In tha end he done cooked up as phat a guess as he could all up in tha direction from which tha cries fo' help had come up in tha night - n' by luck (he started doin thangs wit a phat share of it) be guessed mo' and less right, as yo big-ass booty is ghon peep yo. Havin done cooked up up his crazy-ass mind he crept along as defly as he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Hobbits is smart-ass at on tha fuckin' down-lowness, especially up in woods, as I have already busted some lyrics ta you; also Bilbo had slipped on his bangin rang before he started. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That is why tha spidaz neither saw nor heard his ass coming.

Dude had picked his way stealthily 'for some distizzle, when he noticed a place of dense black shadow ahead of his ass black even fo' dat forest, like a patch of midnight dat had never been cleared away fo' realz. As he drew nearer, he saw dat it was done cooked up by spider-webs one behind n' over n' tangled wit another.

Suddenly he saw, too, dat there was spidaz big-ass n' wack chillin up in tha branches above him, n' rang and no rang he trembled wit fear lest they should discover his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Standin behind a tree he watched a crew of em fo' some time, n' then up in tha silence n' stillnizz of tha wood he realised dat these loathsome creatures was bustin lyrics one ta another. Their voices was a sort of thin creakin n' hissin yo, but he could make up nuff of tha lyrics dat they holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was rappin' bout tha dwarves!

"It was a sharp struggle yo, but worth it," holla'd one. "What nasty thick skins they have ta be shizzle yo, but I be bout ta wager there is phat juice inside." "Aye, they'll make fine eatin, when they've hung a funky-ass bit," holla'd another. "Don't hang 'em too long," holla'd a third. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "They're not as fat as they might be. Been feedin none too well of late, I should guess." "Kill'em, I say," hissed a gangbangin' fourth; "kill 'em now n' hang 'em dead fo' a while."

"They're dead now, I be bout ta warrant," holla'd tha first.

"That they is not. I saw one a-strugglin just now, nahmeean, biatch? Just comin round again, I should say, afta a funky-ass bee-autiful chill. I be bout ta sheezy yo thugged-out ass." With dat one of tha fat spidaz ran along a rope, till it came ta a thugged-out dozen bundlez hangin up in a row from a high branch. Bilbo was horrified, now dat he noticed em fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time danglin up in tha shadows, ta peep a thugged-out dwarvish foot stickin outta tha bottomz of a shitload of tha bundles, and here n' there tha tip of a nose, and a funky-ass bit of beard and of a hood.

To tha fattest of these bundlez tha spider went - "It be skanky oldschool Bombur, I be bout ta bet," thought Bilbo - n' nipped hard all up in tha nozzle dat stuck out. There was a muffled yelp inside, n' a toe blasted up n' kicked tha spider straight n' hard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There was thuglife up in Bombur still. There was a noise like tha kickin of a gangbangin' flabby football, n' tha enraged spider fell off tha branch, only catchin itself wit its own thread just up in time.

Da others laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yo ass was like right," they holla'd, "the meatz kickin it n' kicking!" " "I be bout ta soon put a end ta that," hissed tha supa pissed spider climbin back onto tha branch.

Bilbo saw dat tha moment had come when he must do somethang yo. Dude could not git up all up in tha brutes n' he had not a god damn thang ta blast with; but lookin bout he saw dat up in dis place there was nuff stones lyin up in what tha fuck rocked up ta be a now dry lil watercourse. Bilbo was a pretty fair blasted wit a stone, n' it did not take his ass long ta find a ill smooth egg-shaped one dat fitted his hand cosily.

As a funky-ass pimp he used ta practise throwin stones at thangs, until rabbits n' squirrels, n' even birds, gots outta his way as quick as lightnin if they saw his ass stoop; n' even grownup he had still spent a thugged-out deal of his cold-ass time at quoits, dart-throwing, shootin all up in tha wand, bowls, ninepins n' other on tha down-low game of tha aimin n' throwin sort-indeed he could do fuckin shitloadz of thangs, besides blowin smoke-rings, askin riddlez n' cooking, dat I haven't had time ta rap about. There is no time now, nahmeean, biatch? While he was pickin up stones, tha spider had reached Bombur, n' soon he would done been dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. At dat moment Bilbo threw. Da stone struck tha spider plunk on tha head, n' it dropped senseless off tha tree, flop ta tha ground, wit all its legs curled up.

Da next stone went whizzin all up in a funky-ass big-ass web, snappin its cords, n' takin off tha spider chillin up in tha middle of it, whack, dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. After dat there was a thugged-out deal of commotion up in tha spider-colony, n' they forgot tha dwarves fo' a funky-ass bit, I can tell yo thugged-out ass. They could not peep Bilbo yo, but they could cook up a phat guess all up in tha direction from which tha stones was comin fo' realz. As quick as lightnin they came hustlin n' swingin towardz tha hobbit, flingin up they long threadz up in all directions, till tha air seemed full of wavin snares. Bilbo, however, soon slipped away ta a thugged-out different place. Da idea came ta his ass ta lead tha furious spidaz further n' further away from tha dwarves, if he could; ta make em curious, buckwild n' supa pissed all at once. When bout fifty had gone off ta tha place where he had stood before, he threw some mo' stones at these, n' at others dat had stopped behind; then ridin' dirty among tha trees he fuckin started ta rap a cold lil' woo wop ta infuriate em n' brang em all afta him,and also ta let tha dwarves hear his voice.

This is what tha fuck he sang:

"Oldskool fat spider spinnin up in a tree!

Oldskool fat spider can't peep me!

Attercop, muthafucka! Attercop!

Won't you stop,

Quit yo' spinnin n' look fo' me!

Oldskool Tomnoddy, all big-ass body,

Oldskool Tomnoddy can't spy me!

Attercop, muthafucka! Attercop!

Down you drop!

You'll never catch mah crazy ass up yo' tree!"

Not straight-up phat like yo, but then you must remember dat he had ta make it up his dirty ass, on tha spur of a straight-up awkward moment. It did what tha fuck he wanted any way fo' realz. As he busted he threw some mo' stones n' stamped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Practically all tha spidaz up in tha place came afta him: some dropped ta tha ground, others raced along tha branches, swung from tree ta tree, and cast freshly smoked up ropes across tha dark spaces. They done cooked up fo' his noise far quicker than he had expected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was frightfully supa pissed. Quite apart from tha stones no spider has eva dug bein called Attercop, n' Tomnoddy of course is insultin ta anybody. Off Bilbo scuttled ta a gangbangin' fresh place yo, but nuff muthafuckin of tha spidaz had run now ta different points up in tha glade where they lived, n' was busy spinnin webs across all tha spaces between tha tree-stems. Straight-up soon tha hobbit would be caught up in a thick fence of em all round him-that at least was tha spiders' idea. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Standin now up in tha middle of tha huntin n' spinnin insects Bilbo plucked up his courage n' fuckin started a freshly smoked up song:

"Lazy Lob n' crazy-ass Cob

are weavin webs ta wind mah dirty ass.

I be far mo' sweet than other meat,

but still they cannot find me!

Here be I, naughty lil fly;

yo ass is fat n' lazy.

Yo ass cannot trap me, though you try,

in yo' cobwebs crazy."

With dat he turned n' found dat tha last space between two tall trees had been closed wit a web-but luckily not a proper web, only pimped out strandz of double-thick spider-rope run hastily backwardz n' forwardz from trunk ta trunk. Out came his fuckin lil' sword. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude slashed tha threadz ta pieces n' went off rappin.

Da spidaz saw tha sword, though I don't suppose they knew what tha fuck it was, n' at once tha whole lot of em came hurryin afta tha hobbit along tha ground n' tha branches, hairy legs waving, nippers n' spinners snapping, eyes popping, full of froth n' rage. They followed his ass tha fuck into tha forest until Bilbo had gone as far as he dared.

Then on tha fuckin' down-lower than a mouse he stole back yo. Dude had precious lil time, he knew, before tha spidaz was disgusted n' came back ta they trees where tha dwarves was hung. In tha meanwhile he had ta rescue them. Da worst part of tha thang was gettin up on ta tha long branch where tha bundlez was dangling.

I don't suppose he would have managed it, if a spider had not luckily left a rope hangin down; wit its help, though it stuck ta his hand n' hurt him, he scrambled up-only ta hook up a oldschool slow wicked fat-bodied spider whoz ass had remained behind ta guard tha prisoners, n' had been gettin busy like a biiiatch pinchin em ta peep which was tha juiciest ta eat. It had thought of startin tha feast while tha others was away yo, but Mista Muthafuckin Baggins was up in a hurry, n' before tha spider knew what tha fuck was goin down it felt his stin n' rolled off tha branch dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bilboz next thang was ta loose a thugged-out dwarf. What was he ta do, biatch? If he cut tha strang which hung his ass up, tha wretched dwarf would tumble thump ta tha ground a phat way below. Wrigglin along tha branch (which done cooked up all tha skanky dwarves dizzle n' dangle like ripe fruit) he reached tha straight-up original gangsta bundle.

"Fili and Kili," he thought by tha tip of a funky-ass blue hood stickin up all up in tha top. "Most likely Fili," he thought by tha tip of a long-ass nozzle pokin outta tha windin threadz yo. Dude managed by leanin over ta cut most of tha phat sticky threadz dat bound his ass round, n' then, shizzle enough, wit a kick n' a struggle most of Fili emerged. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be afraid Bilbo muthafuckin laughed all up in tha sight of his ass jerkin his stiff arms n' legs as he dizzled on tha spider-strin under his thugged-out armpits, just like one of em funny toys bobbin on a wire. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somehow and other Fili was gots on ta tha branch, n' then he did his dopest ta help tha hobbit, although he was feelin straight-up sick n' ill from spider-poison, n' from hangin most of tha night n' tha next dizzle wound round n' round wit only his nozzle ta breathe through. It took his ass ages ta git tha beastly shiznit outta his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' eyebrows, n' as fo' his beard, he had ta cut most of it off. Well, between em they started ta haul up first one dwarf n' then another n' slash em free. None of em was mo' betta off than Fili, n' a shitload of em was worse. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some had hardly been able ta breathe at all (long noses is sometimes useful you see), n' some had been mo' poisoned.

In dis way they rescued Kili, Bifur, Bofur, Don n' Nori. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Skanky oldschool Bombur was so exhausted-he was tha fattest n' had been constantly pinched n' poked-that he just rolled off tha branch n' fell plop on ta tha ground, fortunately on ta leaves, n' lay there. But there was still five dwarves hangin all up in tha end of tha branch when tha spidaz fuckin started ta come back, mo' full of rage than eva. Bilbo immediately went ta tha end of tha branch nearest tha tree-trunk n' kept back em dat crawled up yo. Dude had taken off his bangin rang when he rescued Fili n' forgotten ta put it on again, so now they all fuckin started ta splutter n' hiss:

"Now our crazy-ass asses peep you, you nasty lil creature, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses will smoke you n' leave yo' bones n' skin hangin on a tree. Ugh, muthafucka! he be straight gots a stin has he, biatch? Well, we'll git his ass all tha same, n' then we'll hang his ass head downwardz fo' a thugged-out dizzle and two."

While dis was goin on, tha other dwarves was hittin dat shizzle all up in tha rest of tha captives, n' cuttin all up in tha threadz wit they knives. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon all would be free, though it was not clear what tha fuck would happen afta dat shit. Da spidaz had caught em pretty easily tha night before yo, but dat had been unawares n' up in tha dark. This time there looked like bein a wack battle. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly Bilbo noticed dat a shitload of tha spidaz had gathered round oldschool Bombur on tha floor, n' had tied his ass up again n' was draggin his ass away yo. Dude gave a shout n' slashed all up in tha spidaz up in front of his muthafuckin ass. They quickly gave way, n' he scrambled n' fell down tha tree muthafuckin right tha fuck into tha middle of em on tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His lil sword was somethang freshly smoked up up in tha way of stings fo' em yo. How tha fuck it darted ta n' fro, muthafucka! It shone wit delight as he stabbed at em yo. Half a thugged-out dozen was capped before tha rest drew off n' left Bombur ta Bilbo. "Come down, muthafucka! Come down!" he shouted ta tha dwarves on tha branch. "Don't stay up there n' be netted!" For he saw spidaz swarmin up all tha neighborin trees, n' crawlin along tha boughs above tha headz of tha dwarves.

Down tha dwarves scrambled and jumped and dropped, eleven all up in a heap, most of em straight-up shaky n' lil bust on they legs. There they was at last, twelve of em countin skanky oldschool Bombur, whoz ass was bein propped up on either side by his cousin Bifur, n' his brutha Bofur; n' Bilbo was ridin' dirty bout n' wavin his Sting; n' hundredz of supa pissed spidaz was gogglin at em all round n' bout n' above. It looked pretty hopeless. Then tha battle fuckin started. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of tha dwarves had knives, n' some had sticks, n' all of em could git at stones; n' Bilbo had his wild lil' fuckin elvish dagger.

Again n' again tha spidaz was beaten off, n' nuff of em was capped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But it could not go on fo' long. Bilbo was nearly chillaxed out; only four of tha dwarves was able ta stand firmly, n' soon they would all be overpowered like weary flies fo' realz. Already tha spidaz was beginnin ta weave they webs all round em again from tree ta tree. In tha end Bilbo could be thinkin of no plan except ta let tha dwarves tha fuck into tha secret of his bangin rang yo. Dude was rather sorry bout it yo, but it could not be helped.

"I be goin ta disappear," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I shall draw tha spidaz off, if I can; n' you must keep together n' make up in tha opposite direction. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. To tha left there, dat is mo' and less tha way towardz tha place where our crazy-ass asses last saw tha elf-fires."

It was hard as fuck ta git em ta understand, what tha fuck wit they dizzy heads, n' tha shouts, n' tha whackin of sticks n' tha throwin of stones; but at last Bilbo felt he could delay no longer-the spidaz was drawin they circle eva closer yo. Dude suddenly slipped on his bangin ring, n' ta tha pimped out astonishment of tha dwarves he vanished.

Soon there came tha sound of "Lazy Lob" n' "Attercop" from among tha trees away on tha right. That upset tha spidaz pimped outly. They stopped advancing, n' some, went off up in tha direction of tha voice. "Attercop" done cooked up em so supa pissed dat they lost they wits. Then Balin, whoz ass had grasped Bilboz plan mo' betta than tha rest, led a attack. Da dwarves huddled together up in a knot, n' bustin a shower of stones they drove all up in tha spidaz on tha left, n' burst all up in tha rang fo' realz. Away behind em now tha shoutin n' rappin suddenly stopped.

Hopin desperately dat Bilbo had not been caught tha dwarves went on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Not fast enough, though. They was sick n' weary, n' they could not go much mo' betta than a hobble n' a wobble, though nuff of tha spidaz was close behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Every now n' then they had ta turn n' fight tha creatures dat was overtakin em n' already some spidaz was up in tha trees above em n' throwin down they long clingin threads.

Things was lookin pretty bad again, when suddenly Bilbo rocked up n' charged tha fuck into tha astonished spidaz unexpectedly from tha side. "Go on, muthafucka! Go on!" he shouted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I will do tha stinging!" And he did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude darted backwardz n' forwards, slashin at spider-threads, jackin at they legs, n' stabbin at they fat bodies if they came too near. Da spidaz swelled wit rage, n' spluttered n' frothed, n' hissed up wack curses; but they had become mortally afraid of Sting, n' dared not come straight-up near, now dat it had come back. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So curse as they would, they prey moved slowly but steadily away. It was a most terrible bidnizz, n' seemed ta take hours. But at last, just when Bilbo felt dat he could not lift his hand fo' a single stroke more, tha spidaz suddenly gave it up, n' followed em no mo' yo, but went back pissed tha fuck off ta they dark colony.

Da dwarves then noticed dat they had come ta tha edge of a rang where elf-fires had been. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Whether it was one of em they had peeped tha night before, they could not tell. But it seemed dat some phat magic lingered up in such spots, which tha spidaz did not like fo' realz. At any rate here tha light was greener, n' tha boughs less thick n' threatening, n' they had a cold-ass lil chizzle ta rest n' draw breath.

There they lay fo' some time, puffin n' panting. put straight-up soon they fuckin started ta ask thangs. They had ta have tha whole vanishin bidnizz carefully explained, n' tha findin of tha rang interested em so much dat fo' a while they forgot they own shits. Balin up in particular insisted on havin tha Gollum story, riddlez n' all, busted some lyrics ta all over again, wit tha rang up in its proper place. But afta a time tha light fuckin started ta fail, n' then other thangs was axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Where was they, n' where was they path, n' where was there any chicken, n' what tha fuck was they goin ta do next, biatch? These thangs they axed over n' over again, n' it was from lil Bilbo dat they seemed ta expect ta git tha lyrics. From which you can peep dat they had chizzled they opinion of Mista Muthafuckin Baggins straight-up much, n' had begun ta gots a pimped out respect fo' his ass (as Gandalf had holla'd they would). Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshizzle they straight-up expected his ass ta be thinkin of some straight-up dope plan fo' helpin them, n' was not merely grumbling. They knew only too well dat they would soon all done been dead, if it had not been fo' tha hobbit; n' they gave props ta his ass nuff times. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of em even gots up n' bowed muthafuckin right ta tha ground before him, though they fell over wit tha effort, n' could not git on they legs again fo' some time. Knowin tha truth bout tha vanishin did not lessen they opinion of Bilbo at all; fo' they saw dat he had some wits, as well as luck n' a magic ring-and all three is straight-up useful possessions. In fact they praised his ass so much dat Bilbo fuckin started ta feel there straight-up was somethang of a funky-ass bold adventurer bout his dirty ass afta all, though he I would have felt a shitload bolda still, if there had been anythang ta eat.

But there was nothang, not a god damn thang at all; n' none of em Were fit ta go n' look fo' anythang, and ta search fo' tha lost path. Da lost path, muthafucka! No other idea would come tha fuck into Bilboz chillaxed head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude just sat starin up in front of his ass all up in tha endless trees; n' afta a while they all fell silent again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All except Balin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Long afta tha others had stopped rappin' n' shut they eyes, he kept on mutterin n' chucklin ta his dirty ass.

"Gollum, muthafucka! Well I be blest, muthafucka! So thatz how tha fuck he sneaked past mah crazy ass is it, biatch? Now I know, muthafucka! Just crept on tha fuckin' down-lowly along did you, Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, biatch? Buttons all over tha doorstep, biatch? Dope oldschool Bilbo-Bilbo-Bilbo-bo-bo-bo-" And then he fell asleep, n' there was complete silence fo' a long-ass time.

All of a sudden Dwalin opened a eye, n' looked round at them. "Where is Thorin?" he axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was a terrible shock. Of course there was only thirteen of them, twelve dwarves n' tha hobbit. Where indeed was Thorin, biatch? They wondered what tha fuck evil fate had befallen him, magic and dark monsters; n' shuddered as they lay lost up in tha forest. There they dropped off one by one tha fuck into uncomfortable chill full of wack dreams, as evenin wore ta black night; n' there our crazy-ass asses must leave em fo' tha present, too sick n' weary ta set guardz and take turns watching.

Thorin had been caught much fasta than they had. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass remember Bilbo fallin like a log tha fuck into chill, as he stepped tha fuck into a cold-ass lil circle of light, biatch? Da next time it had been Thorin whoz ass stepped forward, n' as tha lights went up he fell like a stone enchanted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All tha noise of tha dwarves lost up in tha night, they cries as tha spidaz caught em n' bound them, n' all tha soundz of tha battle next day, had passed over his ass unheard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then tha Wood-elves had come ta him, n' bound him, n' carried his ass away. Da feastin gangstas was Wood-elves, of course. These is not wicked folk. If they gots a gangbangin' fault it is distrust of strangers. Though they magic was strong, even up in em days they was wary. They differed from tha High Elvez of tha Westside, n' was mo' dangerous n' less wise. For most of em (together wit they scattered relations up in tha hills n' mountains) was descended from tha ancient tribes dat never went ta Faerie up in tha Westside. There tha Light-elves n' tha Deep-elves n' tha Sea-elves went n' lived fo' ages, n' grew fairer n' wiser n' mo' hustled, n' invented they magic n' they cunnin craft, up in tha bustin of dope n' marvellous thangs, before some came back tha fuck into tha Wide Ghetto. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In tha Wide Ghetto tha Wood-elves lingered up in tha twilight of our Sun n' Moon but loved dopest tha stars; n' they wandered up in tha pimped out forests dat grew tall up in landz dat is now lost. They dwelt most often by tha edgez of tha woods, from which they could escape at times ta hunt, and ta ride n' run over tha open landz by moonlight and starlight; n' afta tha comin of Men they took eva mo' n' mo' ta tha gloamin n' tha dusk. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still elves they was n' remain, n' dat is Dope Muthafuckas.

In a pimped out cave some milez within tha edge of Mirkwood on its eastsideern side there lived at dis time they top billin king. Before his big-ass doorz of stone a river ran outta tha heightz of tha forest n' flowed on n' up tha fuck into tha marshes all up in tha feet of tha high wooded lands. This pimped out cave, from which countless smalla ones opened up on every last muthafuckin side, wound far underground n' had nuff passages n' wide halls; but it was lighter n' mo' wholesome than any goblin-dwelling, n' neither so deep nor so dangerous. In fact tha subjectz of tha mackdaddy mostly lived n' hunted up in tha open woods, n' had houses and huts on tha ground n' up in tha branches. Da beeches was they most straight-up bangin trees. Da kingz cave was his thugged-out lil' palace, n' tha phat place of his cold-ass treasure, n' tha fortresz of his thugged-out lil' gangstas against they enemies.

It was also tha dungeon of his thugged-out lil' prisoners. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So ta tha cave they dragged Thorin-not too gently, fo' they did not ludd dwarves, n' thought he was a enemy. In ancient days they had had wars wit a shitload of tha dwarves, whom they accused of jackin they treasure. It be only fair ta say dat tha dwarves gave a thugged-out different account, n' holla'd dat they only took what tha fuck was they due, fo' tha elf-kin had bar - gained wit em ta shape his bangin raw gold n' silver, n' had afterwardz refused ta give em they pay. If tha elf-kin had a weaknizz it was fo' treasure, especially fo' silver n' white gems; n' though his hoard was rich, he was eva eager fo' more, since he had not yet as pimped out a treasure as other elf-lordz of old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His gangstas neither mined nor hit dat shizzle metals and jewels, nor did they bother much wit trade and wit tillin tha earth fo' realz. All dis was well known ta every last muthafuckin dwarf, though Thorinz gang had had not a god damn thang ta do wit tha oldschool quarrel I have spoken of. Consequently Thorin was supa pissed at they treatment of him, when they took they spell off his ass n' he came ta his senses; n' also he was determined dat no word of gold and jewels should be dragged outta his muthafuckin ass.

Da mackdaddy looked sternly on Thorin, when he was brought before him, n' axed his ass nuff thangs. But Thorin would only say dat he was starving. "Why did you n' yo' folk three times try ta battle mah gangstas at they merrybustin?" axed tha king.

"Our thugged-out asses did not battle them," answered Thorin; "we came ta beg, cuz our crazy-ass asses was starving."

"Where is yo' playaz now, n' what tha fuck is they bustin?"

"I don't give a fuck yo, but I expect starvin up in tha forest."

"What was you bustin up in tha forest?"

"Lookin fo' chicken n' drink, cuz our crazy-ass asses was starving."

"But what tha fuck brought you tha fuck into tha forest at all?" axed tha mackdaddy angrily.

At dat Thorin shut his crazy-ass grill n' would not say another word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Straight-up well!" holla'd tha king. "Take his ass away n' keep his ass safe, until he feels inclined ta tell tha truth, even if he waits a hundred years.'" Then tha elves put thongs on him, n' shut his ass up in one of tha inmost caves wit phat wooden doors, n' left his muthafuckin ass. They gave his ass chicken n' drink, nuff both, if not straight-up fine; fo' Wood-elves was not goblins, n' was reasonably well-behaved even ta they worst enemies, when they captured them. Da giant spidaz was tha only livin thangs dat they had no mercy upon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There up in tha kingz dungeon skanky Thorin lay; n' afta he had gots over his cold-ass thankfulnizz fo' bread n' meat n' water, he fuckin started ta wonder what tha fuck had become of his unfortunate playas. It was not straight-up long before he discovered; but dat belongs ta tha next chapter n' tha beginnin of another adventure up in which tha hobbit again flossed his usefulness.


	9. Chapta 9 Barrelz Out of Bond

Da dizzle afta tha battle wit tha spidaz Bilbo n' tha dwarves done cooked up one last despairin effort ta find a way up before they took a dirt nap of hunger n' thirst. They gots up n' staggered on up in tha direction which eight outta tha thirteen of em guessed ta be tha one up in which tha path lay; but they never found up if they was right. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Such dizzle as there eva was up in tha forest was fadin once mo' tha fuck into tha blacknizz of night, when suddenly up sprang tha light of nuff torches all round them, like hundredz of red stars. Out leaped Wood-elves wit they bows n' spears n' called tha dwarves ta halt. There was no thought of a gangbangin' fight. Even if tha dwarves had not been up in such a state dat they was muthafuckin glad ta be captured, they lil' small-ass knives, tha only weapons they had, would done been of no bust against tha arrowz of tha elves dat could hit a funky-ass birdz eye up in tha dark. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they simply stopped dead n' sat down n' waited-all except Bilbo, whoz ass popped on his bangin rang n' slipped quickly ta one side.

That is why, when tha elves bound tha dwarves up in a long-ass line, one behind tha other, n' counted them, they never found and counted tha hobbit. Nor did they hear and feel his ass trottin along well behind they torch-light as they led off they prisoners tha fuck into tha forest. Each dwarf was blindfold yo, but dat did not make much difference, fo' even Bilbo wit tha bust of his wild lil' fuckin eyes could not peep where they was going, n' neither he nor tha others knew where they had started from anyway. Bilbo had all he could do ta keep up wit tha torches, fo' tha elves was bustin tha dwarves go as fast as eva they could, sick n' weary as they were. Da mackdaddy had ordered em ta make haste. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly tha torches stopped, n' tha hobbit had just time ta catch em up before they fuckin started ta cross tha bridge. This was tha bridge dat led across tha river ta tha kingz doors. Da gin n juice flowed dark n' swift n' phat beneath; n' all up in tha far end was gates before tha grill of a big-ass cave dat ran tha fuck into tha side of a steep slope covered wit trees.

There tha pimped out beeches came muthafuckin right down ta tha bank, till they feet was up in tha stream fo' realz. Across dis bridge tha elves thrust they prisoners yo, but Bilbo hesitated up in tha rear yo. Dude did not at all like tha look of tha cavern-grill n' he only done cooked up up his crazy-ass mind not ta desert his wild lil' playaz just up in time ta scuttle over all up in tha heelz of tha fast elves, before tha pimped out gatez of tha mackdaddy closed behind em wit a cold-ass lil clang. Inside tha passages was lit wit red torch-light, n' tha elf-guardz busted as they marched along tha twisting, crossing, n' echoin paths. These was not like em of tha goblin-ghettos: they was smaller, less deep underground, n' filled wit a cold-ass lil cleaner air. In a pimped out hall wit pillars hewn outta tha livin stone sat tha Elvenkin on a cold-ass lil chair of carven wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! On his head was a cold-ass lil crown of berries n' red leaves, fo' tha autumn was come again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In tha sprin he wore a cold-ass lil crown of woodland flowers. In his hand he held a cold-ass lil carven staff of oak.

Da prisoners was brought before him; n' though he looked grimly at them, he busted some lyrics ta his crazy-ass pimps ta unbind them, fo' they was ragged n' weary. "Besides they need no ropes up in here," holla'd he. "There is no escape from mah magic doors fo' em whoz ass is once brought inside."

Long n' searchingly he dissed tha dwarves bout they bustins, n' where they was goin to, n' where they was comin from; but he gots lil mo' shizzle outta em than outta Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They was surly n' supa pissed n' did not even pretend ta be polite.

"What have our crazy-ass asses done, O king?" holla'd Balin, whoz ass was tha eldest left. "Is it a cold-ass lil crime ta be lost up in tha forest, ta be hungry n' thirsty, ta be trapped by spiders, biatch? Is tha spidaz yo' tame beasts and yo' pets, if cappin' em makes you supa pissed?" Such a question of course done cooked up tha mackdaddy angrier than ever, n' he answered: "It be a cold-ass lil crime ta wander up in mah realm without muthafuckin bounce. Do you forget dat you was up in mah kingdom, rockin tha road dat mah gangstas made, biatch? Did yo dirty ass not three times pursue n' shizzle mah gangstas up in tha forest n' ' rouse tha spidaz wit yo' riot n' clamour, biatch? After all tha disturbizzle you have done cooked up I gots a muthafuckin right ta know what tha fuck brangs you here, n' if yo big-ass booty is ghon not tell mah crazy ass now, I will keep you all up in prison until you have hustled sense n' manners!" Then he ordered tha dwarves each ta be put up in a separate cell n' ta be given chicken n' drink yo, but not ta be allowed ta pass tha doorz of they lil prisons, until one at least of em was willin ta tell his ass all he wanted ta know, nahmeean, biatch? But be did not tell em dat Thorin was also a prisoner wit his muthafuckin ass. It was Bilbo whoz ass found dat out.

Skanky Mista Muthafuckin Baggins - it was a weary long time dat he lived up in dat place all alone, n' always up in hiding, never darin ta take off his bangin ring, hardly darin ta chill, even tucked away up in tha darkest n' remotest comers he could find. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! For somethang ta do he took ta wanderin bout tha Elven-kingz palace. Magic shut tha gates yo, but be could sometimes git out, if he was quick. Companiez of tha Wood-elves, sometimes wit tha mackdaddy at they head, would from time ta time ride up ta hunt, and ta other bidnizz up in tha woodz n' up in tha landz ta tha Eastside. Then if Bilbo was straight-up nimble, he could slip up just behind them; though it was a thugged-out dangerous muthafuckin thang ta do. Mo' than once he was nearly caught up in tha doors, as they clashed together when tha last elf passed, yet he did not dare ta march among em cuz of his shadow (altogether thin n' wobbly as it was up in torch-light), and fo' fear of bein bumped tha fuck into n' discovered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And when he did go out, which was not straight-up often, he did no phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Dude did not wish ta desert tha dwarves, n' indeed he did not know where up in tha ghetto ta go without em yo. Dude could not keep up wit tha huntin elves all tha time they was out, so he never discovered tha ways outta tha wood, n' was left ta wander miserably up in tha forest, terrified of losin his dirty ass, until a cold-ass lil chizzle came of returnin yo. Dude was hungry too outside, fo' he was no hunter; but inside tha caves he could pick up a livin of some sort by jackin chicken from store and table when no one was at hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I be like a funky-ass burglar dat can't git away yo, but must go on miserably burglin tha same stupid-ass doggy den dizzle afta day," he thought. "This is tha dreariest n' dullest part of all dis wretched, tiresome, uncomfortable adventure, muthafucka! I wish I was back up in mah hobbit-hole by mah own warm fireside wit tha lamp shining!" Dude often wished, too, dat he could git a message fo' help busted ta tha wizzle yo, but dat of course was like impossible; n' he soon realized dat if anythang was ta be done, it would have ta be done by Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, alone n' unaided.

Eventually, afta a week and two of dis sneakin sort of life, by watchin n' followin tha guardz n' takin what tha fuck chizzlez he could, he managed ta smoke up where each dwarf was kept yo. Dude found all they twelve cells up in different partz of tha palace, n' afta a time he gots ta know his way bout straight-up well. What was his surprise one dizzle ta overhear a shitload of tha guardz rappin' n' ta learn dat there was another dwarf up in prison too, up in a specially deep dark place yo. Dude guessed at once, of course, dat that was Thorin; n' afta a while he found dat his stupid-ass guess was muthafuckin right fo' realz. At last afta nuff bullshiznit he managed ta find tha place when no one was about, n' ta gots a word wit tha chizzle of tha dwarves. Thorin was too wretched ta be supa pissed any longer at his crazy-ass misfortunes, n' was even beginnin ta be thinkin of spittin some lyrics ta tha mackdaddy all bout his cold-ass treasure n' his quest (which shows how tha fuck low-spirited he had become), when he heard Bilboz lil voice at his keyhole yo. Dude could hardly believe his wild lil' fuckin ears. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon however he done cooked up up his crazy-ass mind dat he could not be mistaken, n' he came ta tha door n' had a long-ass whispered rap wit tha hobbit on tha other side.

So it was dat Bilbo was able ta take secretly Thorinz message ta each of tha other imprisoned dwarves, spittin some lyrics ta em dat Thorin they chizzle was also up in prison close at hand, n' dat no one was ta reveal they errand ta tha long, not yet, not before Thorin gave tha word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! For Thorin had taken heart again hearin how tha fuck tha hobbit had rescued his companions from tha spiders, n' was determined once mo' not ta ransom his dirty ass wit promises ta tha mackdaddy of a share up in tha treasure, until all hope of escapin up in any other way had disrocked up; until up in fact tha remarkable Mista Muthafuckin Invisible Baggins (of whom he fuckin started ta gots a straight-up high opinion indeed) had altogether failed ta be thinkin of somethang def.

Da other dwarves like agreed when they gots tha message. They all thought they own shares up in tha treasure (which they like regarded as theirs, up in spite of they plight n' tha still unconquered dragon) would suffer seriously if tha Wood-elves fronted part of it, n' they all trusted Bilbo. Just what tha fuck Gandalf had holla'd would happen, you see. Perhaps dat war part of his bangin reason fo' goin off n' leavin them.

Bilbo, however, did not feel nearly so hopeful as they did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude did not like bein depended on by everyone, n' he wished he had tha wizzle at hand.

But dat was no use: probably all tha dark distizzle of Mirkwood lay between em yo. Dude sat n' thought n' thought, until his head nearly burst yo, but no bright idea would come. One invisible rang was a straight-up fine muthafuckin thang yo, but it was not much phat among fourteen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But of course, as you have guessed, he did rescue his wild lil' playaz up in tha end, n' dis is how tha fuck it happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! One day, nosin n' wanderin about. Bilbo discovered a straight-up horny-ass thang: tha pimped out gates was not tha only entrizzle ta tha caves fo' realz. A stream flowed under part of tha lowest regionz of tha palace, n' joined tha Forest River some way further ta tha eastside, beyond tha steep slope outta which tha main grill opened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Where dis underground watercourse came forth from tha hillside there was a water-gate. There tha rocky roof came down close ta tha surface of tha stream, n' from it a portcullis could be dropped muthafuckin right ta tha bed of tha river ta prevent every last muthafuckin muthafucka comin up in and up dat way. But tha portcullis was often open, fo' a phat deal of traffic went up n' up in by tha water-gate. If every last muthafuckin muthafucka had come up in dat way, he would have found his dirty ass up in a thugged-out dark rough tunnel leadin deep tha fuck into tha heart of tha hill; but at one point where it passed under tha caves tha roof had been cut away n' covered wit pimped out oaken trapdoors. These opened upwardz tha fuck into tha kingz cellars. There stood barrels, n' barrels, n' barrels; fo' tha Wood-elves, n' especially they king, was straight-up fond of wine, though no vines grew up in em parts. Da wine, n' other phats, was brought from far away, from they kinsfolk up in tha South, and from tha vineyardz of Men up in distant lands.

Hidin behind one of tha phattest barrels Bilbo discovered tha trapdoors n' they use, n' lurkin there, listenin ta tha rap of tha kingz servants, he hustled how tha fuck tha wine n' other phats came up tha rivers, and over land, ta tha Long Lake. It seemed a hood of Men still throve there, built up on bridges far tha fuck into tha gin n juice as a protection against enemiez of all sorts, n' especially against tha dragon of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. From Lake-town tha barrels was brought up tha Forest River. Often they was just tied together like big-ass rafts n' poled and rowed up tha stream; sometimes they was loaded on ta flat boats.

When tha barrels was empty tha elves cast em all up in tha trapdoors, opened tha water-gate, n' up tha barrels floated on tha stream, bobbin along, until they was carried by tha current ta a place far down tha river where tha bank jutted out, near ta tha straight-up eastsideern edge of Mirkwood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There they was collected n' tied together n' floated back ta Lake-town, which stood close ta tha point where tha Forest River flowed tha fuck into tha Long Lake. For some time Bilbo sat n' thought bout dis water-gate, n' wondered if it could be used fo' tha escape of his wild lil' playas, n' at last he had tha desperate beginningz of a plan.

Da evenin meal had been taken ta tha prisoners. Da guardz was trampin away down tha passages takin tha torch-light wit em n' leavin everythang up in darkness. Then Bilbo heard tha kingz butla biddin tha chizzle of tha guardz phat-night.

"Now come wit me," he holla'd, "and taste tha freshly smoked up wine dat has just come in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I shall be hard at work tonight clearin tha cellarz of tha empty wood, so let our asses gots a thugged-out drink first ta help tha labour."

"Straight-up phat," laughed tha chizzle of tha guards. "I be bout ta taste wit you, n' peep if it is fit fo' tha kingz table. There be a gangbangin' feast tonight n' it would not do ta bust up skanky stuff!"

When he heard dis Bilbo was all up in a gangbangin' flutter, fo' he saw dat luck was wit his ass n' he had a cold-ass lil chizzle at once ta try his fuckin lil' desperate plan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude followed tha two elves, until they entered a lil' small-ass cellar n' sat down at a table on which two big-ass flagons was set. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon they fuckin started ta drink n' laugh merrily. Luck of a unusual kind was wit Bilbo then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It must be potent wine ta cook up a wood-elf drowsy; but dis wine, it would seem, was tha heady vintage of tha pimped out gardenz of Dorwinion, not meant fo' his soldiers and his servants yo, but fo' tha kingz feasts only, n' fo' smalla bowls, not fo' tha butlerz pimped out flagons.

Straight-up soon tha chizzle guard nodded his head, then he laid it on tha table n' fell fast asleep. Da butla went on rappin' n' bustin up ta his dirty ass fo' a while without seemin ta notice yo, but soon his head too nodded ta tha table, n' he fell asleep n' snored beside his wild lil' playa. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then up in crept tha hobbit.

Straight-up soon tha chizzle guard had no keys yo, but Bilbo was trottin as fast as he could along tha passage towardz tha cells. Da pimped out bunch seemed straight-up heavy ta his thugged-out arms, n' his heart was often up in his crazy-ass grill, up in spite of his bangin ring, fo' he could not prevent tha keys from bustin every last muthafuckin now n' then a loud clink n' clank, which put his ass all up in a tremble.

First he unlocked Balinz door, n' locked it again carefully as soon as tha dwarf was outside. Balin was most surprised, as you can imagine; but glad as he was ta git outta his wearisome lil stone room, he wanted ta quit n' ask thangs, n' know what tha fuck Bilbo was goin ta do, n' all bout dat shit. "No time now!" holla'd tha hobbit. "Yo ass must follow me, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses must all keep together n' not risk gettin separated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All of our asses must escape and none, n' dis is our last chizzle. If dis is found out, phatnizz knows where tha mackdaddy will put you next, wit chains on yo' handz n' feet too, I expect. Don't argue, therez a phat fellow!"

Then off he went from door ta door, until his wild lil' followin had grown ta twelve-none of em any too nimble, what tha fuck wit tha dark, n' what tha fuck wit they long imprisonment. Bilboz heart thumped every last muthafuckin time one of em bumped tha fuck into another, and grunted and whispered up in tha dark. "Drat dis dwarvish racket!" he holla'd ta his dirty ass. But all went well, n' they kicked it wit no guardz fo' realz. As a matter of fact there was a pimped out autumn feast up in tha woodz dat night, n' up in tha halls above. Nearly all tha kingz folks was merrybustin fo' realz. At last afta much blunderin they came ta Thorinz dungeon, far down up in a thugged-out deep place n' fortunately not far from tha cellars.

"Upon mah word!" holla'd Thorin, when Bilbo whispered ta his ass ta come up n' join his wild lil' playas, "Gandalf was rappin true, as usual fo' realz. A pretty fine burglar you make, it seems, when tha time comes. I be shizzle our crazy-ass asses is all fo' eva at yo' service, whatever happens afta this. But what tha fuck comes next?" Bilbo saw dat tha time had come ta explain his crazy-ass muthafuckin idea, as far as he could; but he did not feel at all shizzle bow tha dwarves would take it yo. His fears was like justified, fo' they did not like it a funky-ass bit, n' started grumblin loudly up in spite of they danger.

"Our thugged-out asses shall be bruised n' battered ta pieces, n' drowned too, fo' certain!" they muttered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Our thugged-out asses thought you had gots some sensible notion, when you managed ta git hold of tha keys. This be a mad idea!" "Straight-up well!" holla'd Bilbo straight-up downcast, n' also rather annoyed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Come along back ta yo' ill cells, n' I will lock you all up in again, n' you can sit there comfortably n' be thinkin of a funky-ass mo' betta plan-but I don't suppose I shall eva git hold of tha keys again, even if I feel inclined ta try." "That was too much fo' them, n' they calmed down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In tha end, of course, they had ta do just what tha fuck Bilbo suggested, cuz it was obviously impossible fo' em ta try n' find they way tha fuck into tha upper halls, and ta fight they way outta gates dat closed by magic; n' it was no phat grumblin up in tha passages until they was caught again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So followin tha hobbit, down tha fuck into tha lowest cellars they crept. They passed a thugged-out door all up in which tha chizzle guard n' tha butla could be peeped still happily snorin wit smilez upon they faces. Da wine of Dorwinion brangs deep n' pleasant dreams. There would be a thugged-out different expression on tha grill of tha chizzle guard next day, even though Bilbo, before they went on, stole up in n' kindheartedly put tha keys back on his belt.

"That will save his ass a shitload of tha shizzle he is up in for," holla'd Mista Muthafuckin Baggins ta his dirty ass. "Dude wasn't a funky-ass bad fellow, n' like decent ta tha prisoners. It will puzzle em all too. They is ghon be thinkin our crazy-ass asses had a straight-up phat magic ta pass all up in all em locked doors n' disappear. Disappear, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses have gots ta git busy straight-up quick, if dat is ta happen!"

Balin was busted some lyrics ta off ta watch tha guard n' tha butla n' give warnin if they stirred. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da rest went tha fuck into tha adjoinin cellar wit tha trapdoors.

There was lil time ta lose. Before long, as Bilbo knew, some elves was under ordaz ta come down n' help tha butla git tha empty barrels all up in tha doors tha fuck into tha stream. These was up in fact already standin up in rows up in tha middle of tha floor waitin ta be pushed off. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of em was wine-barrels, n' these was not much use, as they could not easily be opened all up in tha end without a thugged-out deal of noise, nor could they easily be secured again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But among em was nuff muthafuckin others which had been used fo' brangin other stuffs yo, butter, apples, n' all sortz of thangs, ta tha kingz palace. They soon found thirteen wit room enough fo' a thugged-out dwarf up in each. In fact some was too roomy, n' as they climbed up in tha dwarves thought anxiously of tha bobbin n' tha bumpin they would git inside, though Bilbo did his dopest ta find straw n' other shiznit ta pack em up in as cosily as could be managed up in a short time fo' realz. At last twelve dwarves was stowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thorin had given a shitload of shit, n' turned n' twisted up in his cold-ass tub n' grumbled like a big-ass dawg up in a lil' small-ass kennel; while Balin, whoz ass came last, done cooked up a pimped out fuss bout his thugged-out air-holez n' holla'd he was stifling, even before his fuckin lid was on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bilbo had done what tha fuck he could ta close holez up in tha sidez of tha barrels, n' ta fix on all tha lidz as safely as could be managed, n' now he was left alone again, hustlin round puttin tha finishin touches-to tha packing, n' hopin against hope dat his thugged-out lil' plan would come off.

It had not been a-bit too soon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Only a minute and two afta Balinz lid had been fitted on there came tha sound of voices n' tha flicker of lights fo' realz. A number of elves came bustin up n' rappin' tha fuck into tha cellars n' rappin snatchez of song. They had left a merry feast up in one of tha halls n' was bent on returnin as soon as they could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Wherez oldschool Galion, tha butler?" holla'd one. "I haven't peeped his ass all up in tha tablez tonight yo. Dude ought ta be here now ta sheezy our asses what tha fuck is ta be done."

"I shall be supa pissed if tha oldschool slowcoach is late," holla'd another. "I have no wish ta waste time down here while tha cold lil' woo wop is up!"

"Ha, ha!" came a cold-ass lil cry like a muthafucka. "Herez tha oldschool villain wit his head on a jug!

Hez been havin a lil feast all ta his dirty ass n' his wild lil' playa tha captain." "Shake him, muthafucka! Wake him!" shouted tha others impatiently. Gallon was not at all pleased at bein shaken and wakened, n' still less at bein laughed at. "You're all late," he grumbled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Here be I waitin n' waitin down here, while you fellows drink n' make merry n' forget yo' tasks. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Lil Small-Ass wonder if I fall asleep from weariness!"

"Lil Small-Ass wonder," holla'd they, "when tha explanation standz close at hand up in a jug, muthafucka! Come give our asses a taste of yo' chillin-draught before our crazy-ass asses fall to, muthafucka! No need ta wake tha turnkey yonder yo. Dude has had his share by tha lookz of dat shit." Then they drank once round n' became mighty merry all of a sudden. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But they did not like lose they wits. "Save us, Galion!" cried some, "you fuckin started yo' feastin early n' muddled yo' wits, muthafucka! Yo ass have stacked some full casks here instead of tha empty ones, if there be anythang up in weight." "Git on wit tha work!" growled tha butler. "There is not a god damn thang up in tha feelin of weight up in a idle toss-potz arms. These is tha ones ta go n' no others. Do as I say!"

"Straight-up well, straight-up well," they answered rollin tha barrels ta tha opening. "On yo' head be it, if tha kingz full buttertubs n' his dopest wine is pushed tha fuck into tha river fo' tha Lake-men ta feast on fo' nothang!"

"Roll-roll-roll-roll,

roll-roll-rollin down tha hole I

Heave ho, muthafucka! Splash plump !

Down they go, down they bump!"

So they busted as first one barrel n' then another rumbled ta tha dark openin n' was pushed over tha fuck into tha cold gin n juice some feet below. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some was barrels straight-up empty, some was tubs neatly packed wit a thugged-out dwarf each; but down they all went, one afta another, wit nuff a cold-ass lil clash n' a funky-ass bump, thuddin on top of ones below, smackin tha fuck into tha water, jostlin against tha wallz of tha tunnel, knockin tha fuck into one another, n' bobbin away down tha current.

It was just at dis moment dat Bilbo suddenly discovered tha weak point up in his thugged-out lil' plan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Most likely you saw it some time ago n' done been bustin up at him; but I don't suppose you would have done half as well yourselves up in his thugged-out lil' place. Of course he was not up in a funky-ass barrel his dirty ass, nor was there every last muthafuckin muthafucka ta pack his ass in, even if there had been a cold-ass lil chizzle, muthafucka! It looked as if he would certainly lose his wild lil' playaz dis time (nearly all of em had already disrocked up all up in tha dark trap-door), n' git utterly left behind n' have ta stay lurkin as a permanent burglar up in tha elf-caves fo' eva. For even if he could have escaped all up in tha upper gates at once, he had precious lil' small-ass chizzle of eva findin tha dwarves again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude did not know tha way by land ta tha place where tha barrels was collected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude wondered what tha fuck on earth would happen ta em without him; fo' he had not had time ta tell tha dwarves all dat he had hustled, and what tha fuck he had meant ta do, once they was outta tha wood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! While all these thoughts was passin all up in his crazy-ass mind, tha elves bein straight-up merry fuckin started ta rap a cold lil' woo wop round tha river-door. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some had already gone ta haul on tha ropes which pulled up tha portcullis all up in tha water-gate so as ta let up tha barrels as soon as they was all afloat below.

"Down tha swift dark stream you go

Back ta landz you once did know!

Leave tha halls n' caverns deep,

Leave tha northern mountains steep,

Where tha forest wide n' dim

Stoops up in shadow grey n' grim!

Float beyond tha ghetto of trees

Out tha fuck into tha whisperin breeze,

Past tha rushes, past tha reeds,

Past tha marshz wavin weeds,

Through tha mist dat riseth white

Up from mere n' pool at night!

Follow, follow stars dat leap

Up tha heavens cold n' steep;

Turn when dawn comes over land,

Over rapid, over sand,

Downtown away, muthafucka! n' Downtown away!

Seek tha sunlight n' tha day,

Back ta pasture, back ta mead,

Where tha kine n' oxen feed!

Back ta gardens on tha hills

Where tha berry swells n' fills

Under sunlight, under day!

Downtown away, muthafucka! n' Downtown away!

Down tha swift dark stream you go

Back ta landz you once did know!"

Now tha straight-up last barrel was bein rolled ta tha doors, muthafucka! In despair n' not knowin what tha fuck else ta do, skanky lil Bilbo caught hold of it n' was pushed over tha edge wit dat shit. Down tha fuck into tha gin n juice he fell, splash, muthafucka! tha fuck into tha cold dark gin n juice wit tha barrel on top of his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude came up again splutterin n' clingin ta tha wood like a rat yo, but fo' all his wild lil' fuckin efforts he could not scramble on top. Every time he tried, tha barrel rolled round n' ducked his ass under again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It was straight-up empty, n' floated light as a cold-ass lil cork. Though his wild lil' fuckin ears was full of water, he could hear tha elves still rappin up in tha cellar above. Then suddenly tha trapdoors fell ta wit a funky-ass boom n' they voices faded away yo. Dude was up in tha dark tunnel, floatin up in icy water, all alone-for you cannot count playaz dat is all packed up up in barrels.

Straight-up soon a grey patch came up up in tha darknizz ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude heard tha creak of tha water-gate bein hauled up, n' he found dat he was up in tha midst of a funky-ass bobbin n' bumpin masz of casks n' tubs all pressin together ta pass under tha arch n' git up tha fuck into tha open stream yo. Dude had as much as he could do ta prevent his dirty ass from bein hustled n' battered ta bits; but at last tha jostlin crowd fuckin started ta break up n' swin off, one by one, under tha stone arch n' away. Then he saw dat it would done been no phat even if he had managed ta git astride his barrel, fo' there was no room ta spare, not even fo' a hobbit, between its top n' tha suddenly stoopin roof where tha gate was.

Out they went under tha overhangin branchez of tha trees on either bank. Bilbo wondered what tha fuck tha dwarves was feelin n' whether a shitload of gin n juice was gettin tha fuck into they tubs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of em dat bobbed along by his ass up in tha gloom seemed pretty low up in tha water, n' he guessed dat these had dwarves inside. "I do hope I put tha lidz on tight enough!" he thought yo, but before long he was worryin too much bout his dirty ass ta remember tha dwarves yo. Dude managed ta keep his head above tha gin n juice yo, but he was shiverin wit tha cold, n' he wondered if he would die of it before tha luck turned, n' how tha fuck much longer he would be able ta hang on, n' whether he should risk tha chizzle of lettin go n' tryin ta swim ta tha bank.

Da luck turned all muthafuckin right before long: tha eddyin current carried nuff muthafuckin barrels close ashore at one point n' there fo' a while they stuck against some hidden root. Then Bilbo took tha opportunitizzle of scramblin up tha side of his barrel while it was held steady against another. Up he crawled like a thugged-out drowned rat, n' lay on tha top spread up ta keep tha balizzle as dopest he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da breeze was cold but mo' betta than tha water, n' he hoped he would not suddenly roll off again when they started off once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Before long tha barrels broke free again n' turned n' twisted off down tha stream, n' up tha fuck into tha main current Then he found it like as hard as fuck ta stick on as he had feared; but he managed it somehow, though it was miserably uncomfortable. Luckily he was straight-up light, n' tha barrel was a phat big-ass one n' bein rather leaky had now shipped a lil' small-ass amount of gin n juice fo' realz. All tha same stupid-ass it was like tryin ta ride, without bridle and stirrups, a round-bellied pony dat was always thankin of rollin on tha grass. In dis way at last Mista Muthafuckin Baggins came ta a place where tha trees on either hand grew thinner yo. Dude could peep tha pala sky between them.

Da dark river opened suddenly wide, n' there it was joined ta tha main gin n juice of tha Forest River flowin down up in haste from tha kingz pimped out doors. There was a thugged-out dim shizzle of gin n juice no longer overshadowed, n' on its slidin surface there was ridin' dirty n' broken reflectionz of cloudz n' of stars. Then tha hurryin gin n juice of tha Forest River swept all tha company of casks n' tubs away ta tha uptown bank, up in which it had smoked up a wide bay. This had a shingly shore under hangin banks n' was walled all up in tha eastsideern end by a lil juttin cape of hard rock. On tha shallow shore most of tha barrels ran aground, though a gangbangin' few went on ta bump against tha stony pier. There was gangstas on tha look-out on tha banks. They quickly poled n' pushed all tha barrels together tha fuck into tha shallows, n' when they had counted em they roped em together n' left em till tha morning. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Skanky dwarves, muthafucka! Bilbo was not so badly off now yo. Dude slipped from his barrel n' waded ashore, n' then sneaked along ta some huts dat he could peep near tha waterz edge yo. Dude no longer thought twice bout pickin up a supper uninvited if he gots tha chizzle, he had been obliged ta do it fo' so long, n' he knew only too well what tha fuck it was ta be straight-up hungry, not merely politely horny bout tha daintizzlez of a well-filled larder fo' realz. Also he had caught a glimpse of a gangbangin' fire all up in tha trees, n' dat appealed ta his ass wit his fuckin lil' drippin n' ragged threadz clingin ta his ass cold n' clammy.

There is no need ta rap much of his thugged-out adventures dat night, fo' now our crazy-ass asses is drawin near tha end of tha eastsideward journey n' comin ta tha last n' top billin adventure, so our crazy-ass asses must hurry on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Of course helped by his crazy-ass magic rang he gots on straight-up well at first yo, but he was given away up in tha end by his wet footsteps n' tha trail of drippings dat he left wherever he went and sat; n' also he fuckin started ta snivel, n' wherever he tried ta hide he was found up by tha terrific explosionz of his suppressed sneezes. Straight-up soon there was a gangbangin' fine commotion up in tha hood by tha riverside; but Bilbo escaped tha fuck into tha woodz carryin a loaf n' a leather forty of wine n' a pie dat did not belong ta his muthafuckin ass. Da rest of tha night he had ta pass wet as he was n' far from a gangbangin' fire yo, but tha forty helped his ass ta do that, n' he muthafuckin dozed a lil on some dry leaves, even though tha year was gettin late n' tha air was chilly.

Dude woke again wit a specially loud sneeze. It was already grey morning, n' there was a merry racket down by tha river. They was bustin up a raft of barrels, n' tha raft-elves would soon be steerin it off down tha stream ta Lake-town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bilbo sneezed again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude was no longer drippin but he felt cold all over yo. Dude scrambled down as fast as his stiff legs would take his ass n' managed just up in time ta git on ta tha masz of casks without bein noticed up in tha general bustle. Luckily there was no sun all up in tha time ta cast a awkward shadow, n' fo' a mercy he did not sneeze again fo' a phat while. There was a mighty pushin of poles. Da elves dat was standin up in tha heaved n' shoved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da barrels now all lashed together creaked n' fretted..

"This be a heavy load!" some grumbled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "They float too deep-some of these is never empty. If they had come ashore up in tha daylight, our crazy-ass asses might have had a look inside," they holla'd.

"No time now!" cried tha raftman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Shove off!"

And off they went at last, slowly at first, until they had passed tha point of rock where other elves stood ta fend em off wit poles, n' then quicker n' quicker as they caught tha main stream n' went sailin away down, down towardz tha Lake.

They had escaped tha dungeonz of tha mackdaddy n' was all up in tha wood yo, but whether kickin it and dead still remains ta be seen.


	10. Chapta 10 Da Warm Welcome

Da dizzle grew lighter n' warma as they floated along fo' realz. After a while tha river rounded a steep shoulder of land dat came down upon they left. Under its rocky feet like a inland cliff tha deepest stream had flowed lappin n' bubbling. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.

Suddenly tha cliff fell away. Da shores sank. Da trees ended. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then Bilbo saw a sight: Da landz opened wide bout him, filled wit tha wataz of tha river which broke up n' wandered up in a hundred windin courses, and halted up in marshes n' pools dotted wit islez on every last muthafuckin side: but still a phat gin n juice flowed on steadily all up in tha midst fo' realz. And far away, its dark head up in a torn cloud, there loomed tha Mountain, muthafucka! Its nearest neighbours ta tha North-Eastside n' tha tumbled land dat joined it ta em could not be seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All alone it rose n' looked across tha marshes ta tha forest. Da Lonely Mountain, muthafucka! Bilbo had come far n' all up in nuff adventures ta peep it, n' now he did not like tha look of it up in tha least.

As he listened ta tha rap of tha raftmen n' pieced together tha scrapz of deetz they let fall, he soon realized dat he was straight-up fortunate eva ta have peeped it at all, even from dis distizzle. Dreary as had been his crazy-ass muthafuckin imprisonment n' unpleasant as was his thugged-out lil' posizzle (to say not a god damn thang of tha skanky dwarves underneath him) still, he had been mo' lucky than he had guessed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da rap was all of tha trade dat came n' went on tha waterways n' tha growth of tha traffic on tha river, as tha roadz outta tha Eastside towardz Mirkwood vanished and fell tha fuck into disuse; n' of tha bickeringz of tha Lake-men n' tha Wood-elves bout tha upkeep of tha Forest River n' tha care of tha banks.

Those landz had chizzled much since tha days when dwarves dwelt up in tha Mountain, days which most gangstas now remembered only as a straight-up shadowy tradition. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They had chizzled even up in recent years, n' since tha last shizzle dat Gandalf had had of them. Great floodz n' rains had swollen tha watas dat flowed eastside; n' there had been a earthquake and two (which some was inclined ta attribute ta tha dragon-alludin ta his ass chizzlely wit a cold-ass lil curse n' a ominous nod up in tha direction of tha Mountain).

Da marshes n' bogs had spread wider n' wider on either side. Paths had vanished, n' nuff a rider n' wanderer too, if they had tried ta find tha lost ways across. Da elf-road all up in tha wood which tha dwarves had followed on tha lyricz of Beorn now came ta a thugged-out doubtful n' lil used end all up in tha eastsideern edge of tha forest; only tha river offered any longer a safe way from tha skirtz of Mirkwood up in tha Uptown ta tha mountain-shadowed plains beyond, n' tha river was guarded by tha Wood-elves' king.

So you peep Bilbo had come up in tha end by tha only road dat was any phat. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It might done been some comfort ta Mista Muthafuckin Baggins shiverin on tha barrels, if he had known dat shizzle of dis had reached Gandalf far away n' given his ass pimped out anxiety, n' dat he was up in fact finishin his other bidnizz (which do not come tha fuck into dis tale) n' gettin locked n loaded ta come up in search of Thorinz company. But Bilbo did not know dat shit.

All he knew was dat tha river seemed ta go on n' on n' on fo' ever, n' he was hungry, n' had a nasty cold up in tha nose, n' did not like tha way tha Mountain seemed ta frown at his ass n' threaten his ass as it drew eva nearer fo' realz. After a while, however, tha river took a mo' southerly course n' tha Mountain receded again, n' at last, late up in tha dizzle tha shores grew rocky, tha river gathered all its wanderin watas together tha fuck into a thugged-out deep n' rapid flood, n' they swept along at pimped out speed.

Da sun had set when turnin wit another sweep towardz tha Eastside tha forest-river rushed tha fuck into tha Long Lake. There it had a wide grill wit stony clifflike gates at either side whose feet was piled wit shingles. Da Long Lake, muthafucka! Bilbo had never imagined dat any gin n juice dat was not tha sea could look so big. It was so wide dat tha opposite shores looked lil' small-ass n' far yo, but it was so long dat its northerly end, which pointed towardz tha Mountain, could not be peeped at all.

Only from tha map did Bilbo know dat away up there, where tha starz of tha Wain was already twinkling, tha Hustlin River came down tha fuck into tha lake from Dizzy n' wit tha Forest River filled wit deep watas what tha fuck must once done been a pimped out deep rocky valley fo' realz. At tha southern end tha doubled watas poured up again over high waterfalls n' ran away hurriedly ta unknown lands. In tha still evenin air tha noise of tha falls could be heard like a thugged-out distant roar.

Not far from tha grill of tha Forest River was tha strange hood he heard tha elves drop a rhyme of up in tha kingz cellars. It was not built on tha shore, though there was a gangbangin' few huts n' buildings there yo, but muthafuckin right up on tha surface of tha lake, protected from tha swirl of tha enterin river by a promontory of rock which formed a cold-ass lil calm bay fo' realz. A pimped out. bridge done cooked up of wood ran up ta where on big-ass pilez done cooked up of forest trees was built a funky-ass busy wooden town, not a hood of elves but of Men, whoz ass still dared ta dwell here under tha shadow of tha distant dragon-mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They still throve on tha trade dat came up tha pimped out river from tha Downtown n' was carted past tha falls ta they town; but up in tha pimped out dayz of old, when Dizzy up in tha Uptown was rich n' prosperous, they had been wealthy n' powerful, n' there had been fleetz of boats on tha waters, n' some was filled wit gold n' some wit warriors up in armour, n' there had been wars n' deedz which was now only a legend. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da rottin pilez of a pimped outer hood could still be peeped along tha shores when tha watas sank up in a thugged-out drought.

But pimps remembered lil of all that, though some still busted oldschool jointz of tha dwarf-kingz of tha Mountain, Thror n' Thrain of tha race of Durin, n' of tha comin of tha Dragon, n' tha fall of tha lordz of Dizzy. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some busted too dat Thror n' Thrain would come back one dizzle n' gold would flow up in rivers all up in tha mountain-gates, n' all dat land would be filled wit freshly smoked up cold lil' woo wop n' freshly smoked up laughter. But dis pleasant legend did not much affect they everyday bidnizz.

As soon as tha raft of barrels came up in sight boats rowed up from tha pilez of tha town, n' voices hailed tha raft-steerers. Then ropes was cast n' oars was pulled, n' soon tha raft was drawn outta tha current of tha Forest River n' towed away round tha high shoulder of rock tha fuck into tha lil bay of Lake-town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. There it was moored not far from tha shoreward head of tha pimped out bridge. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon pimps would come up from tha Downtown n' take a shitload of tha casks away, n' others they would fill wit phats they had brought ta be taken back up tha stream ta tha Wood-elves' home. In tha meanwhile tha barrels was left afloat while tha elvez of tha raft n' tha boatmen went ta feast up in Lake-town.

They would done been surprised, if they could have peeped what tha fuck happened down by tha shore, afta they had gone n' tha shadez of night had fallen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. First of all a funky-ass barrel was cut loose by Bilbo n' pushed ta tha shore n' opened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Groans came from inside, n' up crept a most unaiiight dwarf. Wet straw was up in his fuckin lil' draggled beard; he was so sore n' stiff, so bruised n' buffeted he could hardly stand and stumble all up in tha shallow gin n juice ta lie groanin on tha shore yo. Dude had a gangbangin' famished n' a savage look like a thugged-out dawg dat has been chained n' forgotten up in a kennel fo' a week. It was Thorin yo, but you could only have busted some lyrics ta it by his stupid-ass golden chain, n' by tha colour of his now dirty n' tattered sky-blue hood wit its tarnished silver tassel. It was some time before he would be even polite ta tha hobbit.

"Well, is you kickin it and is you dead?" axed Bilbo like crossly. Perhaps he had forgotten dat he had had at least one phat meal mo' than tha dwarves, n' also tha bust of his thugged-out arms n' legs, not ta drop a rhyme of a pimped outer allowizzle of air. "Is you still up in prison, and is you free, biatch? If you want chicken, n' if you wanna go on wit dis silly adventure - itz yours afta all n' not mine-you had mo' betta slap yo' arms n' rub yo' legs n' try n' help mah crazy ass git tha others up while there be a cold-ass lil chizzle!"

Thorin of course saw tha sense of this, so afta a gangbangin' few mo' groans he gots up n' helped tha hobbit as well as he could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In tha darknizz flounderin up in tha cold gin n juice they had a thugged-out hard as fuck n' straight-up nasty thang findin which was tha muthafuckin right barrels. Knockin outside n' callin only discovered bout six dwarves dat could answer. They was unpacked n' helped ashore where they sat and lay mutterin n' moaning; they was so soaked n' bruised n' cramped dat they could hardly yet realize they release and be properly thankful fo' dat shit. Dwalin n' Balin was two of da most thugged-out unaiiight, n' it was no phat askin em ta help. Bifur n' Bofur was less knocked bout n' drier yo, but they lay down n' would do nothang. Fili n' Kili, however, whoz ass was lil' (for dwarves) n' had also been packed mo' neatly wit nuff straw tha fuck into smalla casks, came up mo' and less smiling, wit only a funky-ass bruise and two n' a stiffnizz dat soon wore off.

"I hope I never smell tha smell of applez again!" holla'd Fili. "My fuckin tub was full of dat shit. To smell applez everlastingly when you can scarcely move n' is cold n' sick wit hunger is maddening. I could smoke anythang up in tha wide ghetto now, fo' hours on end-but not a apple!"

With tha willin help of Fili n' Kili, Thorin n' Bilbo at last discovered tha remainder of tha company n' gots em out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Skanky fat Bombur was asleep and senseless; Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin n' Gloin was waterlogged n' seemed only half kickin it; they all had ta be carried one by one n' laid helpless on tha shore.

"Well, muthafucka! Here our crazy-ass asses are!" holla'd Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "And I suppose our crazy-ass asses ought ta give props ta our stars n' Mista Muthafuckin Baggins. I be shizzle he has a muthafuckin right ta expect it, though I wish he could have arranged a mo' laid back journey. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still-all straight-up much at yo' steez once more, Mista Muthafuckin Baggins. No doubt our crazy-ass asses shall feel properly grateful, when our crazy-ass asses is fed n' recovered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In tha meanwhile what tha fuck next?" "I suggest Lake-town," holla'd Bilbo, "What else is there?" Nothang else could, of course, be suggested; so leavin tha others Thorin n' Fili n' Kili n' tha hobbit went along tha shore ta tha pimped out bridge.

There was guardz all up in tha head of it yo, but they was not keepin straight-up careful watch, fo' it was so long since there had been any real need. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Except fo' occasionizzle squabblez bout river-tolls they was playaz wit tha Wood-elves. Other folk was far away; n' a shitload of tha lil'er gangstas up in tha hood openly doubted tha existence of any dragon up in tha mountain, n' laughed all up in tha greybeardz n' gammers whoz ass holla'd dat they had peeped his ass flyin up in tha sky up in they lil' days. That bein so it aint surprisin dat tha guardz was drankin n' bustin up by a gangbangin' fire up in they hut, n' did not hear tha noise of tha unpackin of tha dwarves and tha footstepz of tha four scouts. Their astonishment was enormous when Thorin Oakenshield stepped up in all up in tha door.

"Who is you n' what tha fuck do you want?" they shouted leapin ta they feet n' gippin fo' weapons.

"Thorin lil hustla of Thrain lil hustla of Thror Mack under tha Mountain!" holla'd tha dwarf up in a loud voice, n' he looked it, up in spite of his cold-ass torn threadz n' draggled hood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da gold gleamed on his neck n' waist: his wild lil' fuckin eyes was dark n' deep. "I have come back. I wish ta peep tha Masta of yo' town!" Then there was tremendous excitement. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of tha mo' foolish ran outta tha hut as if they expected tha Mountain ta go golden up in tha night n' all tha wataz of tha lake ta turn yellow muthafuckin right away. Da captain of tha guard came forward.

"And whoz ass is these?" he axed, pointin ta Fili and: Kili n' Bilbo. "Da lil playaz of mah fatherz daughter," answered Thorin, "Fili n' Kili of tha race of Durin, n' Mista Muthafuckin Baggins whoz ass has travelled wit our asses outta tha Westside." "If you come up in peace lay down yo' arms!" holla'd tha captain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Our thugged-out asses have none," holla'd Thorin, n' it was true enough: they knives had been taken from em by tha wood-elves, n' tha pimped out sword Orcrist too. Bilbo had his short sword, hidden as usual yo, but he holla'd not a god damn thang bout dat shit. "Our thugged-out asses have no need of weapons, whoz ass return at last ta our own as spoken of old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Nor could our crazy-ass asses fight against so many. Take our asses ta yo' master!"

"Dude be at feast," holla'd tha captain.

"Then all tha mo' reason fo' takin our asses ta him," burst up in Fili, whoz ass was gettin impatient at these solemnities. "Our thugged-out asses is worn n' famished afta our long road n' our crazy-ass asses have sick comrades. Now make haste n' let our asses have no mo' lyrics, and yo' masta may have somethang ta say ta yo thugged-out ass." "Big up mah crazy ass then," holla'd tha captain, n' wit six pimps bout em he led em over tha bridge all up in tha gates n' tha fuck into tha market-place of tha town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This was a wide circle of on tha down-low gin n juice surrounded by tha tall pilez on which was built tha pimped outer houses, n' by long wooden quays wit nuff steps n' laddaz goin down ta tha surface of tha lake.

From one pimped out hall shone nuff lights n' there came tha sound of nuff voices. They passed its doors n' stood blinkin up in tha light lookin at long tablez filled wit folk. "I be Thorin lil hustla of Thrain lil hustla of Thror Mack under tha Mountain, muthafucka! I return!" cried Thorin up in a loud voice from tha door, before tha captain could say anythang fo' realz. All leaped ta they feet. Da Masta of tha hood sprang from his stupid-ass pimped out chair. But none rose up in pimped outer surprise than tha raft-men of tha elves whoz ass was chillin all up in tha lower end of tha hall. Pressin forward before tha Masterz table they cried:

"These is prisonerz of our mackdaddy dat have escaped, wanderin vagabond dwarves dat could not give any phat account of themselves, sneakin all up in tha woodz n' molestin our gangstas!"

"Is dis true?" axed tha Masta fo' realz. As a matter of fact he thought it far mo' likely than tha return of tha Mack under tha Mountain, if any such thug had eva existed.

"It be true dat our crazy-ass asses was wrongfully waylaid by tha Elven-kin n' imprisoned without cause as our crazy-ass asses journeyed back ta our own land," answered Thorin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "But lock nor bar may hinder tha homecomin spoken of old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Nor is dis hood up in tha Wood-elves' realm. I drop a rhyme ta tha Masta of tha hood of tha Men of tha lake, not ta tha raft-men of tha king."

Then tha Masta hesitated n' looked from one ta tha other. Da Elvenkin was straight-up bangin up in em parts n' tha Masta wished fo' no enmitizzle wit him, nor did he be thinkin much of oldschool joints, givin his crazy-ass mind n' tolls, ta cargoes n' gold, ta which g-thang he owed his thugged-out lil' position. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Others waz of different mind, however, n' quickly tha matter was settled without his muthafuckin ass. Da shizzle had spread from tha doorz of tha hall like fire all up in all tha town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Muthafuckas was shoutin inside tha hall n' outside dat shit. Da quays was thronged wit hurryin feet. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some fuckin started ta rap snatchez of oldschool joints concernin tha return of tha Mack under tha Mountain; dat it was Throrz grandson not Thror his dirty ass dat had come back did not bother em at all. Others took up tha cold lil' woo wop n' it rolled loud n' high over tha lake.

"Da Mack beneath tha mountains,

Da Mack of carven stone,

Da lord of silver fountains

Shall come tha fuck into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,

His harp shall be restrung,

His halls shall echo golden

To jointz of yore re-sung.

Da woodz shall wave on mountains

And grass beneath tha sun;

His wealth shall flow up in fountains

And tha rivers golden run.

Da streams shall run up in gladness,

Da lakes shall shine n' burn,

And sorrow fail n' sadness

At tha Mountain-kingz return!"

So they sang, and straight-up like that, only there was a pimped out deal mo' of it, n' there was much shoutin as well as tha noize of harps n' of fiddlez mixed up wit dat shit. Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshizzle such excitement had not been known up in tha hood up in tha memory of tha crazy oldschool grandfather. Da Wood-elves themselves fuckin started ta wonder pimped outly n' even ta be afraid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

They did not know of course how tha fuck Thorin had escaped, n' they fuckin started ta be thinkin they mackdaddy might have done cooked up a straight-up mistake fo' realz. As fo' tha Masta he saw there was not a god damn thang else fo' it but ta obey tha general clamour, fo' tha moment at any rate, n' ta pretend ta believe dat Thorin was what tha fuck he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So he gave up ta his ass his own pimped out chair n' set Fili n' Kili beside his ass up in placez of honour. Even Bilbo was given a seat all up in tha high table, n' no explanation of where he came in-no joints had alluded ta his ass even up in tha obscurest way-was axed fo' up in tha general bustle.

Soon afterwardz tha other dwarves was brought tha fuck into tha hood amid scenez of astonishin enthusiazzle. They was all doctored n' fed n' housed n' pampered up in da most thugged-out delightful n' satisfactory fashion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. A big-ass doggy den was given up ta Thorin n' his company; boats n' rowers was put at they service; n' crowdz sat outside n' busted joints all day, and cheered if any dwarf flossed so much as his nose.

Some of tha joints was oldschool ones; but a shitload of em was like freshly smoked up n' was rappin Kool & Tha Gangly of tha sudden dirtnap of tha dragon n' of cargoez of rich presents comin down tha river ta Lake-town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. These was inspired largely by tha Masta n' they did not particularly please tha dwarves yo, but up in tha meantime they was well contented n' they quickly grew fat n' phat again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshizzle within a week they was like recovered, fitted up up in fine cloth of they proper colours, wit beardz combed n' trimmed, n' proud as a muthafucka steps. Thorin looked n' strutted as if his kingdom was already regained n' Smaug chopped up tha fuck into lil pieces.

Then, as he had holla'd, tha dwarves' phat feelin towardz tha lil hobbit grew stronger every last muthafuckin day. There was no mo' groans and grumbles. They drank his game, n' they patted his ass on tha back, n' they done cooked up a pimped out fusz of him; which was just as well, fo' he was not feelin particularly cheerful yo. Dude had not forgotten tha look of tha Mountain, nor tha thought of tha dragon, n' he had besides a shockin cold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! For three days he sneezed n' coughed, n' he could not go out, n' even afta dat his rapes at banquets was limited ta "Thag you straight-up buch."

In tha meanwhile tha Wood-elves had gone back up tha Forest River wit they cargoes, n' there was pimped out excitement up in tha kingz palace. I have never heard what tha fuck happened ta tha chizzle of tha guardz n' tha butler. Nothang of course was eva holla'd bout keys and barrels while tha dwarves stayed up in Lake-town, n' Bilbo was careful never ta become invisible. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still, I daresay, mo' was guessed than was known, though doubtless Mista Muthafuckin Baggins remained a funky-ass bit of a mystery. In any case tha mackdaddy knew now tha dwarves' errand, and thought he did, n' he holla'd ta his dirty ass:

"Straight-up well, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses bout ta see, muthafucka! No treasure will come back all up in Mirkwood without mah havin somethang ta say up in tha matter. But I expect they will all come ta a funky-ass bad end, n' serve em right!" Dude at any rate did not believe up in dwarves fightin n' cappin' dragons like Smaug, n' he straight fuckin suspected attempted burglary and somethang like it which shows he was a wise elf n' wiser than tha pimpz of tha town, though not like right, as our crazy-ass asses shall peep up in tha end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude busted up his spies bout tha shorez of tha lake n' as far northward towardz tha Mountains as they would go, n' waited. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! At tha end of a gangbangin' fortnight Thorin fuckin started ta be thinkin of departure. While tha enthusiazzle still lasted up in tha hood was tha time ta git help. It would not do ta let everythang def down wit delay. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So he was rappin ta tha Masta n' his councillors n' holla'd dat soon he n' his company must go on towardz tha Mountain.

Then fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time tha Masta was surprised n' a lil frightened; n' he wondered if Thorin was afta all straight-up a thugged-out descendant of tha oldschool kings yo. Dude had never thought dat tha dwarves would muthafuckin dare ta approach Smaug yo, but believed they was fraudz whoz ass would sooner and later be discovered n' be turned up yo. Dude was wrong. Thorin, of course, was straight-up tha grandson of tha Mack under tha Mountain, n' there is no knowin what tha fuck a thugged-out dwarf aint gonna dare n' do fo' revenge and tha recovery of his own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But tha Masta was not sorry at all ta let em go. They was expensive ta keep, n' they arrival had turned thangs tha fuck into a long-ass holidizzle up in which bidnizz was at a standstill. "Let em go n' bother Smaug, n' peep how tha fuck he welcomes them!" he thought.

"Certainly, O Thorin Thrainz lil hustla Throrz son!" was what tha fuck he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yo ass must claim yo' own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da hour be at hand, spoken of old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What help our crazy-ass asses can offer shall be yours, n' our crazy-ass asses trust ta yo' gratitude when yo' kingdom is regained." So one day, although autumn was now gettin far on, n' windz was cold, n' leaves was fallin fast, three big-ass boats left Lake-town, laden wit rowers, dwarves, Mista Muthafuckin Baggins, n' nuff provisions yo. Horses n' ponies had been busted round by circuitous paths ta hook up em at they appointed landing-place. Da Masta n' his councillors bade em farewell from tha pimped out stepz of tha town-hall dat went down ta tha lake. Muthafuckas busted on tha quays n' outta windows. Da white oars dipped n' splashed, n' off they went uptown up tha lake on tha last stage of they long journey. Da only thug thoroughly unaiiight was Bilbo.


	11. Chapta 11 On Tha Doorstepz

In two days goin they rowed muthafuckin right up tha Long Lake n' passed up tha fuck into tha River Hustlin, n' now they could all peep tha Lonely Mountain towerin grim n' tall before them. Da stream was phat n' they goin slow fo' realz. At the; end of tha third day, some milez up tha river, they drew up in ta tha left and westsideern bank n' disembarked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Here they was joined by tha horses wit other provisions n' necessaries n' tha ponies fo' they own bust dat had been busted ta hook up them. They packed what tha fuck they could on tha ponies n' tha rest was done cooked up tha fuck into a store under a tent yo, but none of tha pimpz of tha hood would stay wit em even fo' tha night so near tha shadow of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

"Not at any rate until tha joints have come true!" holla'd they. It was easier ta believe up in tha Dragon n' less easy as fuck ta believe up in Thorin up in these wild parts. Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshizzle they stores had no need of any guard, fo' all tha land was desolate n' empty. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So they escort left them, bustin off swiftly down tha river n' tha shoreward paths, although tha night was already drawin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They spent a cold-ass lil cold n' lonely night n' they spirits fell. Da next dizzle they set up again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Balin n' Bilbo rode behind, each leadin another pony heavily laden beside him; tha others was some way ahead pickin up a slow road, fo' there was no paths. They done cooked up north-west, slantin away from tha River Hustlin, n' drawin eva nearer n' nearer ta a pimped out spur of tha Mountain dat was flung up southwardz towardz them.

It was a weary journey, n' a on tha down-low n' stealthy one. There was no laughter and cold lil' woo wop and sound of harps, n' tha pride n' hopes which had stirred up in they hearts all up in tha rappin of oldschool joints by tha lake took a dirt nap away ta a ploddin gloom. They knew dat they was drawin near ta tha end of they journey, n' dat it might be a straight-up wack end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da land bout em grew bleak n' barren, though once, as Thorin busted some lyrics ta them, it had been chronicand fair. There was lil grass, n' before long there was neither bush nor tree, n' only broken n' blackened stumps ta drop a rhyme of ones long vanished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was come ta tha Desolation of tha Dragon, n' they was come all up in tha wanin of tha year.

They reached tha skirtz of tha Mountain all tha same stupid-ass without meetin any danger and any sign of tha Dragon other than tha wildernizz he had done cooked up bout his fuckin lair. Da Mountain lay dark n' silent before em n' eva higher above them. They done cooked up they first camp on tha westsideern side of tha pimped out southern spur, which ended up in a height called Ravenhill. On dis there had been a oldschool watch-post; but they dared not climb it yet, it was too exposed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Before settin up ta search tha westsideern spurz of tha Mountain fo' tha hidden door, on which all they hopes rested, Thorin busted up a scoutin expedizzle ta spy up tha land ta tha Downtown where tha Front Gate stood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! For dis purpose he chose Balin n' Fili n' Kili, n' wit em went Bilbo. They marched under tha grey n' silent cliffs ta tha feet of Ravenhill. There tha river, afta windin a wide loop over tha valley of Dizzy, turned from tha Mountain on its road ta tha Lake, flowin swift n' noisily. Its bank was bare n' rocky, tall n' steep above tha stream; n' gazin up from it over tha narrow water, foamin n' splashin among nuff boulders, they could peep up in tha wide valley shadowed by tha Mountainz arms tha grey ruinz of ancient houses, towers, n' walls.

"There lies all dat is left of Dizzy," holla'd Balin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Da mountainz sides was chronicwith woodz n' all tha sheltered valley rich n' pleasant up in tha days when tha bells rang up in dat town." Dude looked both fucked up n' grim as he holla'd this: he had been one of Thorinz companions on tha dizzle tha Dragon came. They did not dare ta follow tha river much further to. wardz tha Gate; but they went on beyond tha end of tha southern spur, until lyin hidden behind a rock they could look up n' peep tha dark cavernous openin up in a pimped out cliff-wall between tha armz of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Out of it tha wataz of tha Hustlin River sprang; n' outta it too there came a screw n' a thugged-out dark smoke. Nothang moved up in tha waste, save tha vapour n' tha water, n' every last muthafuckin now n' again a funky-ass black n' ominous crow. Da only sound was tha sound of tha stony water, n' every last muthafuckin now n' again tha harsh croak of a funky-ass bird. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Balin shuddered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Let our asses return!" he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Our thugged-out asses can do no phat here biaaatch! - And I don't like these dark birds, they look like spiez of evil."

"Da dragon is still kickin it n' up in tha halls under tha Mountain then-or I imagine so from tha smoke," holla'd tha hobbit.

"That do not prove it," holla'd Balin, "though I don't doubt yo ass is right. But he might be gone away some time, and he might be lyin up on tha mountain-side keepin watch, n' still I expect smokes n' screws would come outta tha gates: all tha halls within must be filled wit his wild lil' foul reek." With such gloomy thoughts, followed eva by croakin crows above them, they done cooked up they weary way back ta tha camp. Only up in June they had been guests up in tha fair doggy den of Elrond, n' though autumn was now crawlin towardz winter dat pleasant time now seemed muthafuckin years ago. They was alone up in tha perilous waste without hope of further help. They was all up in tha end of they journey yo, but as far as ever, it seemed, from tha end of they quest. None of em had much spirit left.

Now strange ta say Mista Muthafuckin Baggins had mo' than tha others yo. Dude would often borrow Thorinz map n' gaze at it, ponderin over tha runes n' tha message of tha moon-lettas Elrond had read. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was he dat done cooked up tha dwarves begin tha dangerous search on tha westsideern slopes fo' tha secret door. They moved they camp then ta a long-ass valley, narrower than tha pimped out dale up in tha Downtown where tha Gatez of tha river stood, n' walled wit lower spurz of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Two of these here thrust forward westside from tha main mass up in long steep-sided ridges dat fell eva downwardz towardz tha plain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. On dis westsideern side there was fewer signz of tha dragonz maraudin feet, n' there was some grass fo' they ponies. From dis westsideern camp, shadowed all dizzle by cliff n' wall until tha sun fuckin started ta sink towardz tha forest, dizzle by dizzle they toiled up in partizzles searchin fo' paths up tha mountain-side. If tha map was true, somewhere high above tha cliff all up in tha valleyz head must stand tha secret door. Dizzle by dizzle they came back ta they camp without success.

But at last unexpectedly they found what tha fuck they was seeking. Fili n' Kili n' tha hobbit went back one dizzle down tha valley n' scrambled among tha tumbled rocks at its southern corner fo' realz. Bout midday, creepin behind a pimped out stone dat stood alone like a pillar, Bilbo came on what tha fuck looked like rough steps goin upwards. Peepin these buckwildly he n' tha dwarves found tracez of a narrow track, often lost, often rediscovered, dat wandered on ta tha top of tha southern ridge n' brought em at last ta a still narrower ledge, which turned uptown across tha grill of tha Mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Lookin down they saw dat they was all up in tha top of tha cliff all up in tha valleyz head n' was gazin down on ta they own camp below. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Silently, clingin ta tha rocky wall on they right, they went up in single file along tha ledge, till tha wall opened n' they turned tha fuck into a lil steep-walled bay, grassy-floored, still n' on tha fuckin' down-low. Its entrizzle which they had found could not be peeped from below cuz of tha overhang of tha cliff, nor from further off cuz it was so lil' small-ass dat it looked like a thugged-out dark crack n' no mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!It was not a cold-ass lil cave n' was open ta tha sky above; but at its inner end a gangbangin' flat wall rose up dat up in tha lower I part, close ta tha ground, was as smooth n' upright as masonz work yo, but without a joint and crevice ta be seen.

"No sign was there of post and lintel and threshold, nor any sign of bar and bolt and key-hole; yet they did not doubt dat they had found tha door at last. They beat on it, they thrust n' pushed at it, they implored it ta move, they was rappin fragmentz of broken spellz of opening, n' not a god damn thang stirred. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! At last chillaxed up they. rested on tha grass at its feet, n' then at evenin fuckin started, they long climb down.

There was excitement up in tha camp dat night. In tha mornin they prepared ta move once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Only Bofur n' Bombur was left behind ta guard tha ponies n' such stores as they had brought wit em from tha river. Da others went down tha valley n' up tha newly found path, n' so ta tha narrow ledge fo' realz. Along dis they could carry no bundlez and packs, so narrow n' breathless was it, wit a gangbangin' fall of a hundred n' fifty feet beside em on ta sharp rocks below; but each of em took a phat coil of rope wound tight bout his waist, n' so at last without mishap they reached tha lil grassy bay. There they done cooked up they third camp, haulin up what tha fuck they needed from below wit they ropes. Down tha same stupid-ass way they was able occasionally ta lower one of tha mo' actizzle dwarves, like fuckin Kili, ta exchange such shizzle as there was, and ta take a share up in tha guard below, while Bofur was hauled up ta tha higher camp. Bombur would not come up either tha rope and tha path. "I be too fat fo' such fly-strutts," he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I should turn dizzy n' tread on mah beard, n' then you would be thirteen again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And tha knotted ropes is too slender fo' mah weight." Luckily fo' his ass dat was not true, as yo big-ass booty is ghon see.

In tha meanwhile a shitload of em explored tha ledge beyond tha openin n' found a path dat led higher n' higher on ta tha mountain; but they did not dare ta venture straight-up far dat way, nor was there much bust up in dat shit. Out up there a silence reigned, broken by no bird and sound except dat of tha wind up in tha cranniez of stone. They was rappin low n' never called and sang, fo' danger brooded up in every last muthafuckin rock. Da others whoz ass was busy wit tha secret of tha door had no mo' success.

They was too eager ta shizzle bout tha runes and tha moon-lettas yo, but tried without restin ta discover where exactly up in tha smooth grill of tha rock tha door was hidden. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They had brought picks n' toolz of nuff sorts from Lake-town, n' at first they tried ta bust these. But when they struck tha stone tha handlez splintered n' jarred they arms wackly, n' tha steel headz broke and bent like lead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Minin work, they saw clearly was no phat against tha magic dat had shut dis door; n' they grew terrified, too, of tha echoin noise.

Bilbo found chillin on tha doorstep lonesome n' wearisome-there was not a thugged-out doorstep, of course, straight-up yo, but they used ta booty-call tha lil grassy space between tha wall n' tha openin tha "doorstep" up in fun, rememberin Bilboz lyrics long ago all up in tha unexpected jam up in his hobbit-hole, when he holla'd they could sit on tha doorstep till they thought of somethang fo' realz. And sit n' be thinkin they did, and wandered aimlessly about, n' glummer n' glummer they became. Their spirits had risen a lil all up in tha discovery of tha path yo, but now they sank tha fuck into they boots; n' yet they would not give it up n' go away. Da hobbit was no longer much brighter than tha dwarves yo. Dude would do not a god damn thang but sit wit his back ta tha rock-face n' stare away westside all up in tha opening, over tha cliff, over tha wide landz ta tha black wall of Mirkwood, n' ta tha distizzlez beyond, up in which he sometimes thought he could catch glimpsez of tha Misty Mountains lil' small-ass n' far. If tha dwarves axed his ass what tha fuck he was bustin he answered:

"Yo ass holla'd chillin on tha doorstep n' thankin would be mah thang, not ta mention gettin inside, so I be chillin n' thankin." But I be afraid he was not thankin much of tha thang yo, but of what tha fuck lay beyond tha blue distizzle, tha on tha down-low Westsideside Land n' tha Hill n' his hobbit-hole under it fo' realz. A big-ass grey stone lay up in tha centre of tha grass n' he stared vibeily at it and watched tha pimped out snails. They seemed ta ludd tha lil shut-in bay wit its wallz of def rock, n' there was nuff of em of big-ass size crawlin slowly n' stickily along its sides.

"Tomorrow begins tha last week of Autumn," holla'd Thorin one day.

"And winter comes afta autumn," holla'd Bifur.

"And next year afta that," holla'd Dwalin, "and our beardz will grow till they hang down tha cliff ta tha valley before anythang happens here. What tha fuck iz our burglar bustin fo' us?

Since he has gots a invisible ring, n' ought ta be a specially pimpin performa now, I be beginnin ta be thinkin he might go all up in tha Front Gate n' spy thangs up a funky-ass bit!"

Bilbo heard this-the dwarves was on tha rocks just : above tha enclosure where he was chillin-and "Dope Gracious!" he thought, "so dat is what tha fuck they is beginnin ta think, is it biatch? It be always skanky mah crazy ass dat has ta git em up : of they difficulties, at least since tha wizzle left. Whatever be I goin ta do biatch? I might have known dat somethang dreadful would happen ta mah crazy ass up in tha end. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I don't be thinkin I could bear ta peep tha unaiiight valley of Dizzy again, n' as fo' dat screwin gate biaaatch! ! !"

That night he was straight-up miserable n' hardly slept. Next dizzle tha dwarves all went wanderin off up in various directions; some was exercisin tha ponies down below, some was rovin bout tha mountain-side fo' realz. All dizzle Bilbo sat gloomily up in tha grassy bay gazin all up in tha stone, and up westside all up in tha narrow openin yo. Dude had a queer feelin dat he was waitin fo' somethang. "Perhaps tha wizzle will suddenly come back todizzle," he thought. If he lifted his head he could peep a glimpse of tha distant forest fo' realz. As tha sun turned westside there was a gleam of yellow upon its far roof, as if tha light caught tha last pale leaves. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon he saw tha orange bizzle of tha sun sinkin towardz tha level of his wild lil' fuckin eyes yo. Dude went ta tha openin n' there pale n' faint was a thin freshly smoked up moon above tha rim of Ghetto fo' realz. At dat straight-up moment he heard a sharp crack behind his muthafuckin ass. There on tha grey stone up in tha grass was a enormous thrush, nearly coal black, its pale yellow breast freckled dark spots. Crack! It had caught a snail n' was knockin it on tha stone. Crack! Crack!

Suddenly Bilbo understood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Forgettin all danger he stood on tha ledge n' hailed tha dwarves, shoutin n' paying. Those dat was nearest came tumblin over tha rocks n' as fast as they could along tha ledge ta him, wonderin what tha fuck on earth was tha matter; tha others shouted ta be hauled up tha ropes (except Bombur, of course: he was asleep).

Quickly Bilbo explained. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They all fell silent: tha hobbit standin by tha grey stone, n' tha dwarves wit waggin beardz watchin impatiently. Da sun sank lower n' lower, n' they hopes fell. It sank tha fuck into a funky-ass belt of reddened cloud n' disrocked up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da dwarves groaned yo, but still Bilbo stood almost without moving. Da lil moon was dippin ta tha horizizzle. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Evenin was comin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Then suddenly when they hope was lowest a red ray of tha sun escaped like a gangbangin' finger all up in a rent up in tha cloud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A gleam of light came straight all up in tha openin tha fuck into tha bay n' fell on tha smooth rock-face. Da oldschool thrush, whoz ass had been watchin from a high perch wit beady eyes n' head cocked on one side, gave a sudden trill. There was a loud battle fo' realz. A flake of rock split from tha wall n' fell fo' realz. A hole rocked up suddenly bout three feet from tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Quickly, tremblin lest tha chizzle should fade, tha dwarves rushed ta tha rock n' pushed-in vain.

"Da key dawwwwg! Da key!" cried Bilbo. "Where is Thorin?"

Thorin hurried up.

"Da key!" shouted Bilbo. "Da key dat went wit tha map! Try it now while there is still time!"

Then Thorin stepped up n' drew tha key on its chain from round his neck yo. Dude put it ta tha hole. It fitted n' it turned hommie biaaatch! Snap! Da gleam went out, tha sun sank, tha moon was gone, n' evenin sprang tha fuck into tha sky. Now they all pushed together, n' slowly a part of tha rock-wall gave way. Long straight cracks rocked up n' widened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A door five feet high n' three broad was up - lined, n' slowly without a sound swung inwards. It seemed as if darknizz flowed up like a vapour from tha hole up in tha mountain-side, n' deep darknizz up in which not a god damn thang could be peeped lay before they eyes grill leadin up in n' down.


End file.
